


All Dressed Up In Sheep's Wool

by hattric



Series: Wolf Bite [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF!Stiles, Canon-Typical Violence, Emissary!Stiles, Minor Character Death, No Hale Fire AU, Papa Hale is named William, Scallison (mentioned), and gun mention/use, do I tag for swearing??, everybody lives au, still totally ignoring canon, the sheriff's name is John, tiny bit of Sterek I guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-26
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-07 10:37:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11621793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hattric/pseuds/hattric
Summary: With his and Derek's emissary bond solidifying, and the pack dynamics shifting to accompany it, Stiles is just hoping to finish his senior year alive. He could really do without the gun toting psychopath, but apparently that's the least of his problems. He's becoming more and more convinced that the universe hates him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Chapter Preview: Laura and Derek are waiting by the Camaro when he shows up. “I told you you didn't have to wait,” Stiles tells them as he gets out of his Jeep.
> 
> “That's what I said, but does he listen?” Laura mutters, pushing off the car and walking off ahead of them.
> 
> “She's in a cheery mood,” Stiles mumbles, digging through his backpack.
> 
> Derek is watching him curiously. “She woke up like that,” he says. Laura flips them off.

“Dad, have you seen my bat?” Stiles asks, rounding the corner to the kitchen. 

His dad points towards the front door, looking thoroughly unimpressed. “It was laying in front of the door, you're lucky I didn't trip over it,” he says, moving to stand in the doorway. “You guys doing the usual walk around?” he asks. 

“Yeah, I should be back in a few hours,” Stiles says, grabbing his bat. 

“Be careful out there. And don't leave that thing laying around again,” his dad warns, gesturing at the bat. 

Stiles smiles at that. “No promises,” he says, grabbing his phone and his keys. 

His dad hums at his comment and starts back towards the couch. “Call me if there's any trouble,” he says. 

“Will do pops. You gonna be sleeping in front of the TV when I get back?” Stiles asks, his dad just hums again, Stiles takes that as a yes. 

Laura and Derek are waiting by the Camaro when he shows up. “I told you you didn't have to wait,” Stiles tells them as he gets out of his Jeep. 

“That's what I said, but does he listen?” Laura mutters, pushing off the car and walking off ahead of them. 

“She's in a cheery mood,” Stiles mumbles, digging through his backpack. 

Derek is watching him curiously. “She woke up like that,” he says. Laura flips them off. 

“Want one?” Stiles asks, offering Derek a Red Vine, having finally found them. 

Derek rolls his eyes. “You just got here and you're already eating,” he says, more mocking than disbelieving. He takes one anyway. 

Stiles smiles through the Red Vine he has between his teeth and turns to offer one to Laura only to see that she's gone, he shrugs and drops them back in his backpack. 

They catch up to her in a clearing not too far ahead of them, and continue on their usual route, bringing them right up on the gravel road into town. They're debating on whether or not to split up when Stiles spots it. 

The car is stopped at the beginning of the gravel road, idling at the entrance to the preserve, headlights off. Stiles eyes it, the tinted windows keeping him from seeing anyone inside, and takes a cautious step forward only to be stopped by Derek. 

“Where do you think you're going?” he asks, glaring. Stiles gestures towards the car like it should be obvious and Derek rolls his eyes. “You're not just going to walk up to some strange car  
Stiles,” he says. 

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Oh I'm not? Are you gonna stop me?” he questions, challenging. Derek tightens his grip on Stiles' arm and glares. 

“Oh for god's sake,” Laura mutters, shouldering past them and into the road. She's only a few feet from the car when the headlights switch on and it starts gunning for her. She runs back into the cover of the trees on the opposite side of the road and they all watch as the driver slams on the breaks and gets out of the car. 

Stiles can't see them through the car, he's making his way closer to try and catch a glimpse when a gunshot rings out and Derek pulls him down. 

“Come on!” The driver yells, a woman, and then it's quiet aside from the noises of the preserve, and the crunch of gravel under the woman's feet. She stays, pacing around her car, for maybe fifteen minutes before she gives up with a muttered curse, slamming her car door and speeding off. 

Stiles is pushing his way up as soon as the door slams, darting across the road in search of Laura. He finds her a little ways in, her back against a tree, and he drops into a crouch at her side. 

“Are you alright? You're not hit are you? Who the hell was that?” he asks, rapid fire, his hands hovering around her, his eyes searching for wounds of any kind. 

“I'm fine Stiles. She shot blind, the bullet didn't come anywhere near me,” she answers. Stiles stands, helping her up, and Derek moves to check her over. 

“Who shoots blind in the direction of a person anyway? After trying to run them over,” Stiles says, his rant raising in volume as he gets more agitated. “And why was she just stopped there? Was she waiting for us?” he continues, pacing now. 

Laura scoffs, rolling her eyes and batting her brothers hands away. “I don't think she was waiting for us Stiles. I probably just scared her,” she says. 

“Scared her?” Stiles laughs. “Laura she had a shot gun,” he says. Laura shrugs and Stiles gives Derek a _“can you believe this?”_ look. 

“I'm sure she just thought I was an animal. Hell, maybe she mistook me for a mountain lion,” Laura tells him, starting back towards the cars, leaving them to follow behind her. 

Stiles scoffs. “Oh, yeah, because that makes sense. You know, you can't just blame things on random animals and expect people to believe it,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest. He follows her, an uneasy feeling settling in his gut. “I'll talk to my dad,” he says once they get back to the cars, leaning back against the Jeep and pulling out his phone. “Just to see if he's heard anything, and hopefully keep this psycho out of the preserve,” he adds, just catching the smile on Derek's face before it drops. 

“That's really not necessary, but I guess, if it'll make you feel better,” Laura replies. 

Stiles rolls his eyes. “You were the one shot at by a lunatic, and I'm the one who needs to feel better, fucking werewolves, unbelievable,” he mutters. 

They part ways after that, but Stiles still can't shake the uneasy feeling. It follows him from the preserve, tense anticipation coiled at the top of his spine like a serpent waiting to strike. 

The strike comes in the form of two strangers, practically on his doorstep. He ignores them as best as he can, only fully looking back once he's reached the relative safety of his porch. 

The woman smiles when she see's him looking, her teeth, unnaturally sharp, setting Stiles even more on edge. The man with her steps forward, and Stiles is regretting leaving his bat in the Jeep, but she puts a hand out to stop him, whispering something Stiles can't hear and dropping her hand. The guy steps back behind her, resuming his position as menacing bodyguard, and Stiles is confused. 

He cocks his hip against the railing of the porch and crosses his arms over his chest. “It's a bit late for girl scouts,” he calls out. 

The woman smirks and Stiles opens his mouth to say something else, only to snap it shut when he sees the color flash through their eyes. They stand there until the red fades from their irises, and then they turn and walk down the street, the woman waving over her shoulder. 

Stiles keeps his eyes on them until they disappear around a corner at the end of the street . They hadn't said anything, but they didn't need to, he got the message loud and clear. Two new alpha's in town that knew enough to come to his door, nothing good could come from this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Scott is waiting outside when Stiles pulls up, leaning on his bike in front of Derek's Camaro. “You said it wasn't serious,” Scott accuses as soon as Stiles gets out of the Jeep. 
> 
> “It isn't,” Stiles replies. 
> 
> “Derek is here. If Derek is here, that means it's serious,” Scott shoots back. Stiles just shrugs and walks through the doors not stopping until he's in the back room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :(((((( One chapter and I'm already messing up...Two chapters today since I missed yesterday.

     Stiles wakes up in panic mode, everything around him buzzing in his ears, his heart racing. He sits up flailing a hand to his chest in a desperate attempt to just make it all stop, and the thing is, it does. One second he's near a blind panic and the next, he's fine, confused as hell, but fine otherwise.

     The clock on his phone tells him that it's six A.M. which means he should be sleeping, but instead he calls Scott who answers with a groan. “Hey, any way you could meet me at Deaton's?” he asks.

      _“What? Why? What's wrong?”_ Scott asks, sounding a bit more awake.

     “I'm not entirely sure. It could be nothing, I just want to make sure,” Stiles tells him.

      _“Yeah, yeah I can be there,”_ Scott replies. Stiles hears shuffling on the other end of the line that means Scott's getting up.

     “Okay, thanks. I'll see you there,” he says, waiting for Scott's reply before hanging up and pulling up Derek's contact info. He goes with a text for Derek, just a simple; _“Meet me at Deaton's. Important.”_ and then he's out the door.

     Scott is waiting outside when Stiles pulls up, leaning on his bike in front of Derek's Camaro. “You said it wasn't serious,” Scott accuses as soon as Stiles gets out of the Jeep.

     “It isn't,” Stiles replies.

     “Derek is here. If Derek is here, that means it's serious,” Scott shoots back. Stiles just shrugs and walks through the doors not stopping until he's in the back room.

     “What are you doing here?” Stiles asks, looking at Derek.

     “You told me to meet you,” Derek replies, his voice a careful monotone.

     Stiles rolls his eyes. “Dude, I sent that text ten minutes ago, no way you beat me here from your house,” he says, crossing his arms over his chest.

     “He was already here, and I'm assuming you're here for the same thing. Though I don't see what this has to do with Scott,” Deaton comments.

     “I brought Scott along for moral support, forgive me I thought I was dying,” Stiles says.

     “You what?” Scott demands, pinning Stiles with his kicked puppy look.

     “I panicked, sorry. Obviously it isn't that serious, Deaton doesn't look particularly grim. So, what is it doc? And, please save the cryptic non-helpful answers for later, that way I can eat before school,” Stiles says. Deaton looks less than impressed but continues anyway.

     “What happened to you then?” Deaton asks.

     “Uh, right. Well, I woke up, my heart was racing, there was this weird buzzing in my ears, I panicked, and then it was just, gone,” he says, and, wow, this seems stupid now, he could be sleeping.

     “Fascinating,” Deaton mutters.

     “What's so fascinating about it mister Spock?” Stiles asks. Deaton doesn't react, too caught up in whatever he's thinking about to notice Stiles' mocking tone. Scott notices though, and hits Stiles for it, Derek just glares.

     “Your emissary bond is growing exponentially fast,” Deaton says, sounding transfixed, his eyes flitting over a notebook in his hands.

     “Emissary bond?” Stiles questions, looking to Derek who looks equally confused.

     “Yes. The bond between emissary and werewolf, it taps you into a werewolf's abilities,” Deaton says.

     “Abilities?” Stiles says, yawning, he is so not awake enough for this.

     “Hearing, detecting heart rates, strength. Healing capabilities aren't common but occasionally they carry over as well. It won't be anywhere near a werewolves abilities of course, but it is a significant improvement, and the fact that you're starting to show signs of a strengthening bond this early is very rare,” Deaton explains.

     “So, you're telling me this, all this superhuman crap, is part of the emissary thing?” Stiles asks. Though he's not really paying attention to the answer, he already knows it's a yes and he's mentally making a list of all the ways this could be the coolest thing that's ever happened to him. He throws his hands up, stopping whatever Deaton had been saying. “Wait, wait. Can he read my mind now?” he asks, gesturing at Derek who hangs his head with a sigh.

     “Stiles,” he says, exasperated.

     “Don't 'Stiles' me sourwolf, it's a legitimate question. It's annoying enough controlling my heart rate around werewolves, I don't need you poking around in my thoughts too,” Stiles tells him, pulling himself up to lay on the examination table.

     “He can't read your mind Stiles. The emissary bond simply makes you more susceptible to a werewolves abilities,” Deaton explains.

     “So it doesn't effect the bond mates specifically? At all?” Scott asks, sounding genuinely curious. Or, at the very least, more curious than Stiles is at the moment.

     “It helps the human bond mate recognize when their counterpart is in distress while they are apart,” Deaton replies.

     “Stop using big words in complicated sentences, I haven't had enough coffee to keep up with you yet,” Stiles groans, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

     “You're the one that insisted we meet this early,” Derek mutters. Stiles sticks his tongue out in Derek's general direction but he doesn't bother to open his eyes and check.

     “A direct approach then,” Deaton mutters. Stiles hears Derek make a confused, and slightly annoyed noise, followed by the door to the main office opening and closing, he still doesn't open his eyes. In fact he plans on keeping his eyes closed, maybe taking a nap, that is until he feels a sharp pain in his right forearm and his heart rate spikes.

     He sits up so fast he makes himself dizzy and he pulls the sleeve of his hoodie up, expecting blood at least, but there's nothing there, and now that he's paying attention it doesn't feel like it's his heart that's racing. His suspicions are confirmed when Deaton comes back in the room followed by a, significantly grumpier looking, Derek. “Well gee doc, you didn't have to stab him to get your point across,” Stiles says.

     “Yes, well, you said you were in a hurry. You were rather insufferable about it in fact,” Deaton replies. Derek glares and Scott fails to stop a chuckle.

     “Enough with the death glare alright. I woke up this morning thinking I was having a heart attack, you would've freaked out too,” Stiles says, crossing his arms over his chest.

     “Well, now that you know I don't think it's important that you come to me every time something like this happens, but it is important that you pay attention when you feel things like this. For bond mates something like this could very well be the first sign that something is wrong,” Deaton says.

     “Are you trying to freak me out? Because you are doing a great job,” Stiles tells him.

     “He's not trying to freak you out Stiles, he's telling you to pay attention,” Derek says.

     “He's telling me to pay attention by freaking me out,” Stiles snaps. “How am I supposed to know if it's serious or not? How am I supposed to tell?” Stiles asks, flailing his hands, clearly worried.

     “Calm down Stiles,” Derek tells him.

     Stiles glares at him. “Question. If I'm the one to stab him will I still feel it?” he asks.

     Deaton rolls his eyes, rubbing a hand across his forehead. “Just trust your judgment Stiles. You're his emissary, you'll know if something is wrong, trust me,” he says.

     Stiles huffs a breath. “My other question still stands,” he mutters.

     “Yes Stiles, you will still feel it if you are the one to stab him,” Deaton sighs, long suffering.

     “Well that's no fun,” Stiles comments.

     “Come on Stiles, he answered your questions, let's go get something to eat,” Scott says, pushing Stiles towards the door.

     “Thanks for the help Doc,” Stiles calls behind them.

     The rest of his day goes about as can be expected. Everything is going fine until lunch. He's following Lydia to their usual table when a pretty blonde he's never noticed before snatches the apple off Lydia's tray with a smile.

     Lydia gives her an approving once over and Stiles almost, _almost_ , misses the way the girl's eyes flash yellow. He also almost chokes on the water he has in his mouth, but that's less important.

     “Can we talk about that look for a second?” Stiles questions, his voice coming out a few octaves above normal. Lydia blinks at him, feigning innocence.

     “Stiles, not now,” Scott says, practically dragging Stiles out after the blonde girl.

     Stiles goes with a groan, yelling; “I am so not dropping this,” behind them as he does.

     They can't find her in the hallway, but Scott says her name is Erica and that he's positive she wasn't always a werewolf.

     Things quiet down after that, until after school. Stiles is sitting in the locker room changing out of his lacrosse gear when Scott practically throws himself down next to him. “There's another werewolf,” he says, his voice coming out hushed and hurried.

     “Yeah, Erica. I was there, remember?” Stiles replies, pulling his t-shirt on.

     “No, not her, in here. There's another werewolf in here,” Scott says, seeming insistent.

     Stiles shoves his shoulder into Scott's side to tell him to quiet down. “Alright, who?” he asks. Scott shrugs and Stiles scoffs. “Very helpful,” he says. Scott gives him a look and Stiles shifts back on the bench with a sigh, looking around. “What about him?” Stiles asks, gesturing at the lockers a row in front of them.

     “Danny?” Scott asks, smiling sheepishly when Danny turns to look at them.

     “No, Jackson,” Stiles replies, sure to keep his voice down.

     Scott makes a face. “Not Jackson,” he says.

     “Then who?” Stiles asks.

     “I don't know, I just know there's one in here,” Scott tells him.

     Stiles stands up, rolling his eyes as he shoves his gear into his locker. “Well thank you Sherlock Holmes, that's very helpful,” he says.

     Scott stands up, pouting as he leans back against his locker, his eyes sweeping the locker room. He stops on the row of lockers across from them and nudges Stiles with his elbow. “Maybe him,” he says, pointing to Lahey who's shoving his stuff in his locker, his shirt over his shoulder.

     Stiles smacks his hand down, but Isaac turns to look at them, catching Scott's eye with a wink, his irises fading yellow as he walks out of the locker room. “Well that answers that,” Stiles says, slamming his locker shut.

     He's walking to his Jeep, his cell phone wedged between his shoulder and his ear waiting for Derek to answer his phone when he feels someone's eyes on him. He looks around and sees Boyd a couple cars away. Stiles raises his hand to wave and Boyd's eyes flash yellow, he drops his keys and when he straightens back up from getting them Boyd is nowhere to be seen. “You have got to be kidding me,” Stiles says.

      _“What?”_ Derek asks. Stiles hadn't realized he'd picked up.

     “You need to meet us at Deaton's,” he says.

      _“Why? What happened?”_ Derek questions.

     Stiles pulls open the door to his Jeep and throws his backpack in the back. “Three new betas is what happened,” he replies.

     Scott and Deaton are waiting when Stiles gets to the clinic, and Derek has Laura and Cora with him. Stiles stops next to Scott, takes a deep breath, and starts talking.

     “Can we just talk about this for a minute? Because everywhere I've gone lately I've run into werewolves,” Stiles says, flailing a bit, hitting Scott in the process. Scott just rolls his eyes. “Seriously, here, werewolves, home, werewolves, school, werewolves. Oh, and let's not forget the shot gun toting maniac from the preserve. Not a werewolf, but still worth mentioning,” he yells.

     “What do you mean, who was at your house?” Derek insists.

     “Some scary alpha lady with crazy eyes was there when I got home the other night. Her and her henchman both pulled alpha eyes on me and then they just walked off,” Stiles answers.

     “They were both alphas?” Deaton questions.

     “Yeah,” Stiles replies.

     “You're sure?” he asks again.

     “Yes, I'm sure. It's kind of hard to miss the glowing red eyes,” Stiles says, turning to look at Deaton, just catching the worried look on his face. “Why is that important?” he asks.

     “Right? I'm more concerned about the new betas to be honest. If there's someone in town who's turning teenagers, we need to find them,” Laura says to no one in particular, Deaton having disappeared into the back room. He comes back a moment later clutching a worn leather bound notebook, a small silver Triskelion dangling from between the pages.

     “If these alphas are who I think they are, new betas are the least of our problems,” Deaton mutters, flipping the notebook open and pulling out a picture. It's of him and four other people, all smiling, standing in front of the vet clinic. He points to one of the women in the picture; “Is this her?”.

     Stiles nods, bringing a hand up to point at one of the other guys. “He was the other one. Who are they? What makes them so dangerous?” he asks. Deaton closes the book, leaving the picture inside.

     “Kali and Ennis, the first werewolves I ever met,” he says, with a tired sigh. “The other man in the photo, Deucalion, somehow figured out that if you made up a pack of only alphas, it would increase their power exponentially. But so many of them in one pack, it makes them power hungry and vicious,” he adds.

     “I only saw two of them though,” Stiles tells him.

     “Deucalion is dead. A hunter up near Washington found him,” he says.

     “So it's just the two of them now, could they be responsible for the betas?” Laura asks.

     “After losing Deucalion they'd be looking to gain more power, and betas are a way to do that, but there's no way to be sure,” he replies.

     “Great. So, two vicious alphas, who may or may not be turning teenagers into werewolves, and nothing we can do about it,” Stiles says with a groan.

     “So, probably not the best time to tell you that Allison's aunt is in town,” Scott comments sheepishly.

     Stiles closes his eyes and drops his head. “This aunt wouldn't happen to be from her mom's side would she?” he questions. Scott doesn't answer and when Stiles looks up Scott won't meet his eyes. “Of course not,” Stiles mutters, closing his eyes again and bringing a hand up to rub at the bridge of his nose. “I can't deal with that right now. I can't actually believe I'm saying this, but our priority should be the alpha's for now,” he says.

      “Talia will need to hear about this. If there is a werewolf turning humans in Beacon Hills she may be able to find them,” Deaton comments.

     “Yes, that's right. She's the alpha, that makes this her turf war, and therefore not my problem,” Stiles comments, pumping a fist in the air.

     Cora rolls her eyes. “Right, like you'll stay out of it,” she scoffs.

     “He's too damn nosy for his own good,” Laura adds.

     “Constantly in other people's business,” Derek agrees.

     Stiles throws a hand to his chest, mocking offense. “The offense is totally fake, but I'm not so sure how I feel about you three agreeing like that,” he says, narrowing his eyes at them.

     Deaton sighs in Stiles' general direction. “You'll let your mother know?” he asks. Laura nods. “Then that's all we can do for now,” he says.

     “Alright, since that's settled. I'm going to get a milkshake,” Stiles says, pushing off the table he's been leaning on and walking out of the room. No sense in worrying about something he can't do anything about. He makes a mental note to talk to the betas anyway, just in case.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I'm Kate Argent,” she adds, reaching out to shake John's hand.
> 
> “Of course you are,” Stiles mutters, eyes on his shoes. This can't be good, her introducing herself, it's probably a way to cover her tracks. Win them over with her plastered smile, and carefully constructed charm and blow Stiles' chances of convincing them she's to blame all to shit. “Allison says you've been in town since Friday. Any reason you waited so long to introduce yourself?” he asks.
> 
> “Stiles,” his dad sighs. “Excuse him, what he lacks in manners he makes up for in wild theories,” he adds, to Kate this time.
> 
> She laughs. It sounds forced to Stiles' ears, but his dad seems to buy it. “I guess so. I believe he was in the middle of one of those 'theories' when I showed up,” she replies.

     "It's the Argent's," Stiles insists, upon barging into his dad's office. Ignoring the look his dad gives him as he drops into a chair, and runs a hand through his hair. "I mean, it has to be. It's the only thing that makes sense," he says, biting at his thumbnail.

     His dad heaves a sigh, rubs his hands down his face and gives Stiles a look that clearly conveys his exasperation. "I'm going to be completely honest with you son. I have no idea what you're talking about," he says.

     Stiles sighs, slumping in the seat, his head lolling back. "The Argent's shot at Laura," he says, not really paying attention, his thoughts going a mile a minute. "What I can't figure out is why. What could they possibly have to gain," he adds, letting his sentence trail off.

     John sighs and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. "Stiles, we've discussed this. Chris wouldn't-" his dad starts.

     Stiles bolts up out of the chair, waving his dad off with the hand that isn't in his hair. "No, not Chris. The new one, Kate," he says absentmindedly.

     "Who's Kate?" his dad asks.

     Stiles starts pacing in front of the desk. "His sister. Apparently, she just showed up late Friday night for a 'visit'," he answers.

     John sighs again; "They are allowed visitors Stiles".

     Stiles stops his pacing to look at his dad, his eyes wide and a little wild. "That's not the point. Dad, focus. It was her," he says. His dad looks unimpressed. "It was, I'm telling you, she's the one that shot at Laura. If you'd just let me prove it," Stiles says again.

     "Stiles," John tries, looking up towards the door.

     Stiles ignores him and keeps going; "No, dad, think about it. She just shows up in the middle of the night, the same night Laura gets shot at. That can't be a coincidence". He's practically ranting now, pacing back and forth in front of his dad's desk again, one hand in his hair, his bottom lip between his teeth.

     His dad stands up behind his desk, placing both of his hands flat on his desk, shaking his head a little. "Stiles," he tries again.

     Stiles doesn't stop in his rant; "And Chris didn't even mention having a sister before. Maybe he was trying to keep her a secret so she could sneak into town and-".

     "Stiles," John repeats, for the third time, raising his voice this time.

     "What?" Stiles finally replies, stopping in his pacing.

     "You should have let him keep going. He has a wild imagination, I was enjoying it," the woman at the door says, taking a few steps into the room, eyeing Stiles like she's sizing him up.

     "Hello ma'am, how can I help you?" John asks with an apologetic smile.

     "Chris told me I should come down here, introduce myself," she starts, doing a slow loop around the room, eyeing the guns appreciatively. "If I'd known all the wild speculation my coming into town would cause I would've come here sooner," she states, coming to a stop next to Stiles, offering a friendly smile. "I'm Kate Argent," she adds, reaching out to shake John's hand.

     "Of course you are," Stiles mutters, eyes on his shoes. This can't be good, her introducing herself, it's probably a way to cover her tracks. Win them over with her plastered smile, and carefully constructed charm and blow Stiles' chances of convincing them she's to blame all to shit. "Allison says you've been in town since Friday. Any reason you waited so long to introduce yourself?" he asks.

     "Stiles," his dad sighs. "Excuse him, what he lacks in manners he makes up for in wild theories," he adds, to Kate this time.

     She laughs. It sounds forced to Stiles' ears, but his dad seems to buy it. "I guess so. I believe he was in the middle of one of those 'theories' when I showed up," she replies.

     Right, so that had been what his dad had been trying to get his attention for. _'Way to show your hand genius'_. Stiles thinks, running a hand through his hair. "So, what? You moving in too? Or is this a family reunion? Should we be expecting the entire Argent clan in town?" Stiles asks, a bite to his words, letting her know he isn't falling for her act for a second.

     There's a twitch in her smile, the smallest hint of a snarl for less than a second, easily missed if you weren't looking for it. "Nope, just me. I was in the area, figured I might as well drop in and say hi," she says.

     "Well, it was nice to meet you Kate, and I'm sorry again, about him," his dad says, starting towards the door.

     "What? No," Stiles says, getting to the door before his dad can and blocking the way. His dad looks at him like he thinks he's finally lost his mind. "Um, what I mean is; we have to call Talia. It's only fair, we didn't know about Kate when we talked to Chris before, so," he stops there, unsure where exactly to go with it.

     "Stiles, she's visiting, not moving in. There's no reason to involve the Hales, I'm sure she'll run into them in town," his dad says. Stiles sighs, going to step back from the door.

     "I'd love to meet the Hales," Kate says. And that, that Stiles hadn't been expecting. "I can wait, if you want to give them a call," she adds, making herself comfortable in the chair Stiles had occupied earlier.

     John sighs and goes back to his seat, Stiles text's Derek.

     Talia is the first one through the door not even fifteen minutes later, and Stiles is off the couch so fast he's pretty sure he pulled something. Kate stands slowly, meeting Talia half way with a warm smile and an outstretched hand.

     "Kate Argent," she says.

     "I've heard," Talia replies, her smile equally warm. "I'm Talia Hale," she adds.

     Kate drops her hand, her eyes flicking briefly over Laura before moving to Derek, giving him an appreciative once over. And, yeah, Stiles has seen that look before. He rolls his eyes from his place next to Derek and almost, almost, groans at the unfairness of it all. Because of course the gun-toting psychopath is attracted to Derek, god forbid Stiles' life ever get any easier.

     He waits til Kate drops her eyes and elbows Derek in the side, meeting his responding glare with one of his own. "Can you try and look a little less ridiculously attractive? Try and remember that she shot at your sister," Stiles says, rolling his eyes at Derek's confused look and crossing the room to his dad's desk. "Alright, so. I'm sure you three have a lot to talk about. We'll just be, out there, if you need us," Stiles says, pointing to the door. Talia nods in response and Stiles takes Derek and Laura and leaves the room.

     "So?" he asks, once they're far enough away from the office.

     "So, what Stiles?" Laura asks.

     Stiles rolls his eyes. He swears sometimes they are purposely dense. "So, is she the one that shot at you?" he asks, looking at Laura expectantly.

     "Is that why you asked me to come Stiles? I told you I didn't see who shot at me, I'm not going to tell you it was Kate just to satisfy this ridiculous vendetta you have against the Argent family," she replies.

     "I don't have a vendetta, Laura. I'm trying to protect your family," Stiles replies.

     She scoffs; "Then why are you so insistent on it being Kate?".

     Stiles opens his mouth to reply and closes it almost immediately when the only thing he can think of is; "Because it has to be her,".

     Laura rolls her eyes and starts back towards his dad's office. "They want us back in there. Something tells me you aren't going to like this," she mutters.

     Sure enough, Stiles doesn't like it one bit. Kate poses no threat, and doesn't plan on staying too long, so, without any proof that she's up to no good, they can't exactly tell her to get lost. Stiles is trying not to pout.

     "See you around handsome," she purrs at Derek, laying a hand on his arm. She shoots Stiles a smirk on the way out that no one else sees, and it leaves him more determined than ever to get her the hell out.

     "You're seriously just going to let her leave?" Stiles insists, glaring at the door, half expecting Kate to come back in guns blazing.

     "What do you want us to do Stiles?" Talia asks. Stiles turns to face her where she's leaning against his dad's desk, her arms crossed over her chest.

     "I don't know, something. She could be the one that shot at Laura, we can't just let her stroll around town," he replies, starting to pace.

     John sighs, dropping down into his chair. "We don't have anything to prove that she shot at Laura," he says.

     "I know that," Stiles yells, hands curling into fists. He ignores the look Derek is giving him and continues pacing. "I know we don't have proof, people keep pointing that out," he says, calmer this time. "But really, how important is proof? Can't we just say she's sketchy and tell her to pack her shit and go?" he asks. His dad rolls his eyes.

     Laura scoffs; "You're just pissy because she was all over Derek". Derek crosses his arms in front of himself, his neck red. Talia hides a smile behind her hand, Laura gives him a smug look.

     "She was taunting me," he insists. Laura's smug look gets worse, his dad shifts uncomfortably in his chair. It takes a second for his brain to catch up with his mouth, and when it does he squeezes his eyes shut pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "That didn't come out right," he mumbles.

     "Oh, I think it came out exactly right," Laura mocks, the smug look still firmly in place.

     "Dammit Laura, I'm trying to help," he replies, glaring at her. "You didn't see the smirk she shot me as she left. You weren't here when she showed up; she did this on purpose. She's playing you guys, and you're falling for it, hook-line-and-sinker," he adds.

     "I'm sorry Stiles," Talia sighs. "Even if what you're saying is true-".

     "If, if it's true?" he questions, turning to look at her wide eyed. "You seriously think I'm lying?" he says. Judging by the look on her face Stiles can tell he doesn't want her to answer. He sighs, feeling deflated, the fight draining out of him. "Fine, whatever. You win. I'm crazy," he mutters, leaning against the wall, head in his hands.

     Everyone is quiet, long enough that Stiles is considering restarting his argument, but his dad speaks up first. "Can we have a minute alone please," he says.

     Stiles looks up, expecting a lecture, but it's Talia his dad is looking at, not him. Stiles pushes off the wall and follows Derek and Laura to the hallway. "What are they saying?" Stiles asks, looking at them expectantly.

     Laura smirks and starts towards the front room. "They're asking us to go outside," she answers from the other end of the hallway. Stiles huffs in annoyance and follows them out of the station.

     "You believe me right? She's bad news," Stiles asks, stopping his pacing abruptly to turn around and look at Derek. They're outside the station now, Stiles pacing in front of his Jeep, Talia and John discussing god knows what inside.

     Derek nods. Laura scoffs; "Of course he believes you". Stiles is pretty sure he knows what she's insinuating, but he ignores it. Shoving a hand through his hair and picking up his pacing where he'd left off.

     "Because he's right," Derek snaps, glaring at Laura in a way that Stiles is sure could be lethal. "She showed up the night you got shot at, that's one hell of a coincidence, it only makes sense to suspect her," he adds.

     "Thank you," Stiles exclaims, making a face at Laura behind her back.

     "Oh please. Don't pretend you're thinking with the logical part of your brain Derek. Her showing up that night could be a coincidence, and there's nothing that says it isn't. At this point we have more reason to suspect Kali," Laura says.

     Stiles stops his pacing to turn and face her. "Why would Kali shoot at you? What could she possibly have to gain from shooting at you?" Stiles asks.

     "Why would Kate shoot at me?" Laura replies. She's trying to make a point, Stiles knows it, he's just not sure what it is yet.

     "Because she's an Argent. If she's anything like her father, she doesn't need a reason," Stiles replies, and, yeah, there's the point she was trying to make. Stiles can see it now.

     When Laura replies, this time, there's a smugness in her voice that makes Stiles glare at her. "We don't know if she's anything like her father, and she's done nothing to suggest she's dangerous," she says, glaring when Stiles opens his mouth to argue. "You didn't trust Chris either, and you were wrong about him. Maybe you're wrong about Kate too," she says.

     Stiles maybe hates her a little bit. He heaves a sigh and collapses back against his Jeep. "I hope I am," he says, and he honestly means it, he hopes he's wrong about Kate. He just doesn't think he is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, back to your regularly scheduled programming(hopefully). I really will try to keep on schedule now.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kate enters the room in a huff, shooting a glare at the way this man has made himself comfortable, like he doesn't have a care in the world.
> 
> He raises an eyebrow at her glare, nonchalant as ever, and gestures towards a drink on the table in front of him. "How is everything going?" he asks.
> 
> She crosses the room and grabs the drink, downing it before pouring herself another.
> 
> "That well?" he questions with a smirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm really bad at updating on time, I promise I'll really try to do better. Anyway, enjoy :)

     Kate is stopped at a light uptown glaring out the windshield. It had been raining all morning and it didn't help her mood in the least.

     All she'd been able to think about since her impromptu meeting with the Hales was the Stilinski kid. She knew before she got to town that he would be trouble, but she'd didn't expect him to suspect her so easily. His influence over the pack didn't seem all that strong, but he sure seemed to have a hold on Derek, if the scowl on his face during their first meeting was anything to go by.

     The light changed and she continued down the street. Her thoughts kept drifting to Stilinski; the plan wouldn't work if he was snooping around convincing everyone that she was bad news. She slams her hands into the steering wheel and bites down on her cheek until she tastes blood.

     The flickering Motel sign comes into view and she pulls into the, nearly vacant, lot. _Stilinski kid will have to go,”_ thinks, slamming her car door. It was part of the plan all along, it wouldn't hurt to get rid of him sooner rather than later.

     Kate enters the room in a huff, shooting a glare at the way this man has made himself comfortable, like he doesn't have a care in the world.

     He raises an eyebrow at her glare, nonchalant as ever, and gestures towards a drink on the table in front of him. "How is everything going?" he asks.

     She crosses the room and grabs the drink, downing it before pouring herself another.

     "That well?" he questions with a smirk.

     "Talia, Laura, hell, even John, they trust me. Not as much as they could, but enough," she starts, pausing to take another drink. "But Derek, not even a glance in my direction, he steadfastly refused to give me so much as a kind word. He wouldn't trust me if his life depended on it, all because of that fucking Stilinski kid," she adds, growling, her hand tightening around her glass.

     "Well of course he won't," he chuckles. "He's smarter than he looks, besides, that little doe eyed emissary has Derek eating out of the palm of his hand," he says, refilling his own drink.

     Kate turns on him, scowling. "What are we going to do about this?" she demands. "The plan won't work unless they all trust me".

     He stands and crosses the room in one swift motion, cupping her face in his hand. "The only thing worrying will get you, is wrinkles," he tells her.

     She glares. "One of us has to," she spits. “If we just kill the emissary-” she starts. He interrupts her with a snarl.

     “We will kill the emissary; in time,” he tells her, letting his eyes flash red for the briefest moment in warning.

     She rolls her eyes at his theatrics, not scared in the least. “Before or after he ruins our whole plan?” she asks, taunting him for any kind of reaction.

     He doesn't disappoint.

     His gaze turns steely and he tightens his hand to just this side of painful. "I will handle this. You just stick to the plan," he growls, his tone leaving no room for argument.

     "Your so called 'plan' isn't going to work if you don't do something about that damn emissary," she tells him, refusing to back down.

     He keeps eye contact for a moment, hand still tight around her face, before he drops all contact, going back to his drink without another word.

     Kate leaves the room twice as pissed as she was when she came in, slamming the door behind her, ignoring the look's she's getting from the other people in the room.

     "Do you really think he'll be a problem?" Kali asks, eyes on Kate as she stalks across the room.

     Kate turns to look at her, taking a swig of the drink in her hand before answering; "I think he has the potential to single handedly ruin our whole plan".

     Kali laughs. "He's human Kate. He can't be that powerful," she says.

     "He escaped from Eliana's pack, unarmed, in a matter of hours," Kate says. "He managed to escape with both Alyssa and Cora Hale. He then took out all of her beta's and ran them all out of town without firing a shot," she adds, finishing her drink. "So yes, he can be that powerful".

     Kali shrugs from her spot on the couch. "He'll figure something out; and if all else fails, Ennis can take care of him for us," she says.

     Kate sets down her glass and shakes her head. "No. Under no circumstances are you to go after Stilinski," she says. "He can deal with the emissary, this was his idea after all," she adds.

     "What if he comes after us?" Kali asks.

     Kate smirks, half out the door. "Run," she says, letting the door fall shut behind her.

     Stiles is waiting for her in the parking lot. Leaning against his beat up Jeep. "Figures I'd catch you slinking out of there," he says, not looking surprised in the least.

     Kate smiles, spinning the keys around her finger. “What's the matter Stilinski? You look a little down,” she says, stopping a few feet from him.

     “Not down. Confused,” Stiles replies.

     “Don't worry, I'm sure he likes you back,” Kate tells him, a wicked smile on her face.

     Stiles huffs a laugh; “I just don't get it. I've proven myself capable of protecting them, and they still won't trust me about you”.

     She raises her eyebrows, gesturing to herself and mouthing 'me?'.

     “You might have everyone else wrapped around your little finger, but I don't trust you for a second,” he spits.

     Kate smiles wider. “Of course you don't,” she says, moving towards her car. “But, then again, you don't trust anyone,” she adds as she gets in and leaves.

     It's late when she gets back to the house, well past the time everyone usually goes to sleep, so she's surprised when Chris is up waiting for her. "You want a beer?" she asks, opening the fridge and grabbing herself one, passing another one to him over the counter.

     "Where have you been Kate?" he asks, not touching the beer.

     She sighs, leaning back against the fridge. "Out," she replies.

     He glares, unamused.

     "Geez 'dad', what crawled up your ass and died?" she scoffs. The look doesn't leave his face, and this is exactly what she doesn't need right now. Stilinski is already on to them, the last thing she needs is Chris looking over her shoulder.

     "We're happy here Kate. Allison is making friends, I'm not constantly looking over my shoulder; I won't let you ruin this," he tells her.

     She slams her beer down on the counter next to her. "You've gotten soft in your old age Chris," she replies. "The Chris I knew would've never let himself get comfortable in a place like this, run by werewolves and a pair of hack hunters," she adds.

     "The Hale's are good people, they keep this town safe; and the Stilinski's help them," he replies.

     "You moved here months ago. In that time a rogue pack have come and gone, without punishment, god knows where they are now. The Hale's were appointed an emissary Chris, I thought that's why you were coming here, to make sure that didn't happen, but instead, you've cozied up to them. Their pack is getting stronger by the second, and you aren't doing anything to stop it," she spits.

     "I'm retired Kate; and besides, the Hale's have never hurt anyone, they've never even turned a human, there is nothing to suggest that they're going to start now," he says. "And Stiles is young. He barely knows what it means to be a hunter, let alone what being an emissary entails. He isn't a threat, and neither are the Hale's. So, if that's why you're here, you need to leave," he adds.

     Kate scoffs, downing her beer and shaking her head. "I'm not here about the Hale's, or the Stilinski kid, I'm here because you abandoned your family Chris. As soon as Allison turned sixteen, you ran, now she's nineteen with no training, no idea about her family history; she doesn't even know that werewolves exist," she says.

     A dark look crosses his face and his hands tighten on the counter. "I don't want Allison to know anything about that. She deserves a life Kate, one that isn't filled with monsters," he replies.

     "Monsters like the Hale's? Or like her boyfriend Scott?" she questions, leaning forward on the counter and meeting his eyes. "Or are you talking about dad?" she asks, smirking when he flinches just the slightest bit. "I thought so. You and him never really got along, not after you realized that his 'rules' were more made up than he originally let on," she says, moving back to lean against the fridge again.

     "He killed innocent people Kate, hundreds of them, and he made us help him, he told us it was right," Chris spits, fists clenched. "I don't want him to have anything to do with my daughter," he adds.

     Kate smiles. "That's too bad. He could teach her a lot, about werewolves, about our family," she says. "But, if you're okay with her dating one of them, that's your choice I guess. Come to think of it;  
you always did have a soft spot for them," she adds, just to see the look on his face.

     Chris opens the beer in front of him, taking a drink before saying anything. "I want you gone by the end of the week Kate, or I'm going to the Hale's with what I know," he tells her, moving towards the stairs.

     "Don't worry Chris, I'm not here to set your perfect little world on fire, not yet," she mutters, pulling her phone out as he climbs the stairs. _“We have a week,"_ she types, sending it before heading to her room. The reply comes in seconds later; _"We'll be ready”_. She rolls her eyes at the dramatic reply and presses call. He picks up on the first ring, but she waits until she's shut safely in her room to say anything.

     “It's time for you to do something about him,” she says, not bothering to elaborate on who she means, he'll know.

     He sighs and she hears ice against glass as he takes a drink. _“Don't worry. The emissary won't be a problem much longer,”_ he replies.

     “You better be sure. Our whole plan rides on him staying out of our way,” she growls. “This has already blown up in my face once, and he was barely an emissary then, his power has only grown,” she adds.

     He laughs. _“What happened with Eliana's pack was an unfortunate means to an end. It helped us better understand what we're dealing with,”_ he says. _“Besides, you made it out just fine, I'm sure you'll make it out of this the same way. You have a funny way of doing that,”_ he adds.

     He's right, she does. Her mom had told her once that she was like a cockroach, that she could survive anything, even with her head cut off she'd find a way to stick around. Her mother had meant it as an insult, her father had told her it made her stronger, more dangerous. “Just remember, if your plan goes south, I won't hesitate to leave you behind,” she tells him.

     He laughs again, louder this time, more sincere. _“I wouldn't expect anything less,”_ he replies. She waits a beat, hears him finish off his drink, the line goes dead. She tries to ignore the annoying feeling that this isn't going to end well. She'll make it out alive, she always does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I really will try to update on time from now on. Things just get away from me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He can't stay,” Stiles says immediately, his grip tightening around the gun. Talia looks between the two of them for a minute before her eyes come to rest on Stiles, an apologetic look on her face. “You have got to be kidding me,” he insists. He can clearly see she isn't, and is tempted to just shoot the guy here and now and get it over with.
> 
> “A week, no longer, and he'll be with one of us at all times,” Talia promises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure I'm updating on time(finally). Enjoy :)

     Stiles stood in the clearing and glared at his surroundings. It was too early for this, the sun was too bright and everything was too green. He hated it, and he really just wanted to go home and go back to bed, but he had something to prove dammit. That, and he was having a hard time remembering where he'd parked.

     He heaves a sigh and starts off the trail to his right. He'd already been at this an hour, and so far he'd come up empty. He's just starting to think that, maybe Laura's right, when he catches something silver out of the corner of his eye and stops abruptly, steps away from setting off the trip wire.

     He trips it with his bat and smirks to himself when the trap snaps shut, flashing a few times before letting out a low hiss and stopping all together. He knew he was right.

     The trip back to his Jeep includes a lot of stumbling, and backtracking, and a fair amount of cursing, but he finds his way back before too long. He throws the trap in the trunk and the bat in the passenger seat and starts towards the Hale house with a smile on his face. They'd have to listen to him now.

     Stiles bursts through the front door, not bothering to announce himself, and drops the trap onto the coffee table. “What the hell Stiles,” Laura curses, an odd edge to her voice that Stiles dismisses in favor of gloating.

     “They're trapping the woods,” he announces. The irritation drops from Laura's face, replaced by something closer to shock. “And by 'they', I mean Kate. It was way off normal hiking trails, and hidden well enough that no one would have found it unless they triggered it, or were looking for it,” he adds, hoping **this** will finally have them all in agreement about Kate. He's actually kind of giddy at the thought.

     “Our hero,” a voice says from behind him.

     The voice is familiar, and Stiles feels the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He turns slowly, to find Peter smirking at him, his stomach churns. Kate is no longer the most important thing on his mind.

     “Long time no see,” Peter says. He takes a step forward and Stiles' hand drops to pull the gun tucked into his waistband.

     “What the fuck is he doing here?” he growls, gun trained on Peter who has frozen in place, arms raised slightly, looking amused.

     “He was just leaving,” Talia replies. Unfazed by Stiles' actions.

     Peter drops his hands and walks towards the coffee table. “Come now Tali. Is that any way to treat your baby brother?” he chides.

     Stiles scoffs. “When he's a psychopath, yes,” he says.

     Peter tsk's, running his fingers over the trap on the table. Stiles almost wishes he'd left it armed. “I'm hardly a psychopath,” he mutters.

     “What do you want Peter?” Talia asks, sounding more annoyed than anything.

     Peter actually has the gall to look offended. “Some time with family, that's all. I've been away a long time,” he says, seemingly sincere.

     “He can't stay,” Stiles says immediately, his grip tightening around the gun. Talia looks between the two of them for a minute before her eyes come to rest on Stiles, an apologetic look on her face. “You have got to be kidding me,” he insists. He can clearly see she isn't, and is tempted to just shoot the guy here and now and get it over with.

     “A week, no longer, and he'll be with one of us at all times,” Talia promises.

     Stiles doesn't care if they tie him to the stair railing, something bad is bound to happen, and they aren't listening to him, _again_ , and Stiles is seething. He looks around the room for Derek, almost a reflex at this point, and comes up empty. Just as pissed as Stiles is then, good. He drops the gun to his side, taking a few deep breaths before saying anything; “Keep your eyes open when you're in the preserve”. The breaths didn't help, he can still hear his pulse hammering in his ears, knows the Hales can too as he turns and walks towards the door. Laura reaches out to put a hand on his arm and he moves out of reach. “Don't,” he tells her, his voice hard. She recoils and he leaves without another word.

     He goes straight to Scott's. Because his dad is working, and Derek isn't answering his texts, and Lydia is off doing god-knows-what with Jackson. Mostly though, because he feels like Scott deserves to know.

     Peter was the one that bit him, that turned his entire life upside down. Scott needed to know, needed to hear it from him.

     He lets himself in, stopping outside Scott's door when he hears talking. He knocks twice and yells through the door; “Dude, put some pants on. I need to talk to you, and this isn't the kind of conversation you have naked”.

     Scott opens the door, the look on his face entirely unamused, but still a little fond, his cellphone at his ear. “Yeah, it's Stiles. Alright mom, I'll see you after work. Love you too, bye,” he says into the phone, hanging up and looking at Stiles expectantly. “What did you want to talk about?” he asks, when Stiles doesn't say anything.

     “Peter's back,” Stiles says. He sees the emotions shift across Scott's face before his expression goes blank and he drops onto the end of his bed. “It's only for a few days, less if I can help it, and he'll be supervised,” Stiles adds, going for reassuring.

     Scott's look doesn't change. “I thought he wasn't allowed back, after...” his sentence trails off and something between sadness and anger flashes across his face, gone as quickly as it came.

     “He gave some bullshit line about 'missing family' and Talia folded,” Stiles says, a little harsher than he'd intended. “Don't worry, I'll talk to my dad, he'll be out of here before you know it,” he adds.

     Scott just nods.

     “Hey, it'll be fine. He's not allowed out of their sight, he won't be anywhere near you,” Stiles assures him, sitting down next to him.

     Scott seems to recover a little. “Yeah, I'm sure it'll be fine,” he says finally, the smile back on his face. Stiles returns his smile easily, he doesn't have the heart to tell him that it probably won't be fine.

     He decides to stay with Scott till Melissa gets home, not really wanting to leave him alone, and they talk easily for a while. Scott going on and on about Allison, with a love struck look on his face that kind of makes Stiles want to puke.

     He tells Scott about the trap he'd found as soon as he can get a word in.

     “Do you really think it's Kate?” Scott asks, looking up at him from where he'd sprawled across his bedroom floor.

     “Honestly, yeah. I've yet to find a reason not to suspect her,” Stiles replies, tossing his phone from hand to hand. “Why? Do you know something?” he asks.

     Scott shrugs. “No,” he answers. “I mean, she _seems_ okay, and Allison really likes her; Chris doesn't seem to though. He's always in the room with us if she's there, and Allison says he won't let them be alone either, he always has to be with them,” he adds.

     “Yet another thing for the _'she's totally nuts'_ column,” Stiles says. Scott just rolls his eyes.

     They're quiet for a minute before Scott speaks up again. “I heard them arguing the other day. Kate wants Chris to let Gerard train Allison to take over in his place,” he says, the look on his face clearly showing that he's unsure how to feel. “But Chris is pretty adamant about her not knowing anything about, ya know,” he adds, shrugging.

     Stiles makes a face that Scott doesn't see and kicks his leg off the bed and into Scott's knee. “He's probably just trying to protect her from Gerard, and I can't say I blame him. Everything that I've found on him suggests that he's a ruthless killer, and judging by how Kate turned out, I don't think he's a great person to allow around your kids,” he says.

     Scott makes a face that means he's about to say something that he'd really rather not admit. “I know, it's just. I hate having to lie to her,” he says, his voice quiet, his eyes fixed on the ceiling.

     Stiles takes a deep breath, holds it for a minute, and lets it out slow. He hates that he can't fix this for Scott, he prides himself on being able to **fix** things like this, especially for his best friend. But he can't fix this. Chris was clear that he didn't want Allison to know anything about werewolves, or emissaries, or anything else they've had to deal with; and Stiles may not agree with his decision to keep her in the dark, but it's not his place to tell her either. “Well, it's not _technically_ lying if she doesn't know werewolves are a thing,” he states.

     Scott huffs a laugh. “What kind of logic is that?” he asks, looking up at Stiles.

     “My kind; and I'm a genius, so you should totally listen to me,” Stiles replies, feeling a lot better when Scott busts into a fit of laughter.

     Once Scott stops laughing they venture out to the kitchen for food, Stiles pulling himself up on the counter as Scott digs through the fridge. “Hey, about the Peter thing; I think you should wait to tell your dad til tomorrow,” Scott says, moving to rummage through a cupboard.

     Stiles cocks an eyebrow at the suggestion. “Why?” he asks.

     Scott shrugs and turns to face him, leaning back against the counter. “You know how he feels about Peter, he nearly killed him before he left. If you tell him while he's at the station what's gonna stop him from storming over there and shooting him?” he asks.

     Stiles nods in agreement; “Shooting Peter wouldn't be the worst thing though. I almost did it myself this morning”. Scott looks a little surprised by that, but Stiles just shrugs.

     “What would killing him do to your guy's relationship with the Hales though?” he asks.

     And, huh, that's actually a good point. Talia didn't seem too displeased at the gun incident this morning, but now that she'd agreed to let him stay it was probably a different story.

     “I'm kind of important right now, being emissary and all, so I'm not sure how they'd take it,” Stiles replies. He doubts they'd do anything drastic, and he knows most of them would be glad he was gone, but the Hales are all about family, so it would all depend on Talia.

     “Just, wait to tell him, okay?” Scott repeats, waiting for Stiles' nod of agreement to continue his search through the kitchen.

     They don't find food, but Melissa comes home a few minutes later with burgers for all of them. Melissa is the best. Stiles leaves after he's done eating, because he knows that Scott is going to tell his mom about Peter, and Stiles would rather not be there for that. So he hugs them both, thanks Melissa for dinner, wishes Scott luck, and drives home. He doesn't have anything that _needs_ to be done when he gets there, so he flops down on the couch, and switches on the T.V. He's still flipping through channels when he sees the Camaro park across the street. He waits, nobody gets out.

     Stiles' eyes shift again to the window, settling on the black Camaro parked across the street. He rolls his eyes and pushes himself up off the couch; it's been two hours, this is getting ridiculous. He closes the door behind himself and crosses the street casually, pulling open the passenger door when he reaches the Camaro and letting himself in. “Comfortable?” he asks.

     Derek sighs next to him; “What are you doing out here Stiles?”.

     “I could ask you the same thing,” he replies, turning to face him with an eyebrow raised. “So what's up? Because, I gotta be honest, I'm not really into the whole 'Edward Cullen; sneaking into my room at night to watch me sleep' thing,” he says.

     A confused look crosses Derek's face, his eyebrows furrowing. “I don't even want to know what you're talking about,” he says.

     Stiles huffs a laugh and gestures around the car. “What's up with this dude? Because it's creepy, and vaguely stalker-ish,” he says.

     Derek rolls his eyes. “I'm not stalking you Stiles,” he says. Stiles could say something to that, but he sees the look on Derek's face and knows what he's not saying.

     “You have to go home eventually,” Stiles tells him.

     Derek shoots him a look and shifts lower in his seat. “I know. I'll go back, I'm waiting until they're all asleep,” he replies.

     Stiles scoffs; “You gonna sneak in and out of the house until he leaves?”.

     Derek shrugs. “They didn't listen when I told them he couldn't stay, so he gets to be their problem,” he says. Stiles smirks.

     “Yeah, well, don't feel too bad. They didn't listen to me either, and I had a gun,” he tells him. Derek surprises him by laughing.

     “I heard about that. Kinda wish I'd been there to see it,” he says.

     “Oh, I will have no problem recreating it for you, trust me,” Stiles replies.

     “Have you told your dad yet?” he asks. Stiles shakes his head no and rubs a hand down his face, everything catching up to him at once. He's tired, of werewolves, and psychopaths, and of people not listening to him.

     He sighs; “I'll tell him when he gets home in the morning, if I wait too long Melissa will tell him. So, I have that to look forward to”. He shifts, opens the door and steps out into the street. “My couch is always an option, if you don't wanna go home,” Stiles offers, before he can talk himself out of it. Derek looks surprised by the offer, but he seems to be at least considering it.

     “Your dad will be okay with it?” he asks.

     Stiles nods; “He likes you, he won't mind. Especially after our talk in the morning”. Derek shrugs, pulls his keys out of the ignition, and gets out of the car.

     They walk back to the house in silence, Stiles locking the door behind them when they get inside, Derek stays in the living room while Stiles grabs him a pillow and blanket to use. “You know where everything is?” he asks, dropping the stuff on the couch, Derek nods. “Alright, I'm going to bed. You know where I am if you need me,” he says, turning and going upstairs without another word. He drops his hoodie and his t-shirt by the edge of his bed and drops in face down, kicking his legs under the blankets, barely getting them around himself before he's sleeping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I maybe should have mentioned this at the beginning, but this is best read AFTER reading part one. I mean, it's not vital I guess, but it should make more sense that way.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His dad is the first in the driveway, followed by Derek, then himself; he gets out of the car as soon as he parks, rushing to catch up to his dad. “So, what's the plan?” he asks casually. His dad ignores him and lets himself in. Talia is standing at the entrance to the living room, strategically placed between John and Peter.

     Stiles wakes with a start, and he knows from the light barely coming in his window that it's way too fucking early for him to be awake, but he can't help it, he can feel someone watching him. He groans and rolls over, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I swear to god, if you're standing there like a creep-” he jumps when his dad clears his throat from the doorway.

     “Why is the Hale boy on my couch?” he asks, looking way too amused for Stiles liking.

     Stiles groans again, it's too early for this conversation. “Coffee?” Stiles asks, hopefully.

     “Downstairs,” his dad replies. Stiles sighs and pushes himself up, following his dad down into the kitchen. Derek is leaning against the counter with a cup of coffee resting against his bottom lip, looking half asleep, Stiles hip checks him on the way by, smirking at the half-hearted glare Derek shoots his way. His dad waits, until Stiles chugs his first cup of coffee black, and starts stirring milk and sugar into his second, to clear his throat and meet Stiles' eye with a pointed look.

     “So, uh, Derek crashed here last night,” Stiles starts.

     His dad glares. “Really? Hell, I missed that,” he deadpans. “Why did he crash here?” he asks.

     Stiles clears his throat, switches his coffee cup from hand to hand, and keeps his eyes on the floor. “He didn't want to go home,” he offers finally.

     Now his dad is starting to get suspicious. “Why not?” he asks.

     “Peter's back,” Stiles blurts. “I tried to tell Talia that he couldn't stay, I swear I did, but she wouldn't listen to me, and she wouldn't listen to Derek when he told her either, so he's here, and I told Scott last night. Because he needed to know, and I was gonna tell you right after that, but he talked me out of it, said it could wait at least until you got home,” he says, in one breath.

     John is quiet, his eyes closed, fingers clamped on the bridge of his nose, breathing in and out in measured breaths. “What does he want?” he manages through gritted teeth.

     “He said he wanted time with family, that he'd been away for a long time and he missed us,” Derek answers. John scoffs.

     “Yeah, that's about how I felt about it,” Stiles says.

     John stands and moves to drop his coffee cup in the sink. “I'm going over there,” he says.

     “Dad,” Stiles starts, but his dad talks over him.

     “It was part of our agreement after what he did to Scott, that he wasn't allowed back here, and I don't intend to let them forget that,” he says.

     Stiles starts to argue again, but Derek talks before he can; “He's right Stiles. After what he did he shouldn't be allowed back here, they agreed to that and they can't just take it back because he decides to guilt them into it”. Stiles looks between Derek and his dad and just shakes his head.

     “Let me get dressed,” he mutters, starting up the stairs. “Leave your gun here,” he yells, an afterthought, halfway to his room. He hears his dad mutter something from downstairs, but he ignores it and gets dressed. It's gonna be a long day.

     His dad is the first in the driveway, followed by Derek, then himself; he gets out of the car as soon as he parks, rushing to catch up to his dad. “So, what's the plan?” he asks casually. His dad ignores him and lets himself in. Talia is standing at the entrance to the living room, strategically placed between John and Peter.

     Peter perks up when he sees them; “Oh look, it's the welcoming committee”. John ignores him, his eyes on Talia.

     “What is he doing here Talia?” he demands.

     “Visiting,” she replies easily.

     “We agreed he wasn't allowed back here after what he did,” he spits. Peter scoffs and John takes a few steps towards the living room, eyeing the chair Peter is lounging in.

     “He's not allowed out of the house, and he's never here alone. We have this under control,” Talia says, moving further into John's path.

     “He can't be here Talia,” John yells.

     “We've already explained this to Stiles. One of us will be with him at all times,” Talia replies, calmer than she has any right to be.

     Stiles has had enough, he steps up in front of his dad, glaring at Talia. “I don't care if you handcuff him and throw him in the basement, he's dangerous Talia, and you know it,” he says, trying to keep his voice even. Peter sits up straighter in his chair and turns to face him.

     “If you're so worried about it, you can handcuff me yourself,” he purrs, leering at Stiles and holding his wrists out like that would make the offer more enticing.

     Stiles may actually vomit. Derek definitely growls, low and louder than anything Stiles has ever heard out of one of the Hales.

     “Touchy, touchy,” Peter mutters, flopping back in his chair like he's disappointed.

     John steps forward again and Derek pulls Stiles back behind him by his wrist. “We need to have a conversation,” John demands, not dropping Talia's eyes. Talia nods and starts towards the study, leaving William and Peter in the living room.

     Derek turns on his heel and pushes Stiles into the kitchen, his eyes not leaving Peter until they're fully in the kitchen and he's out of sight. Stiles drops onto one of the bar stools with a sigh. “You alright?” Derek asks.

     Stiles nods; “Thoroughly creeped out, kinda feel like I need to take a shower, but other than that I'm in one piece”. Derek doesn't laugh, just keeps glaring in the direction of the living room, his shoulders set in a hard line.

     “She won't make him leave,” he says, sure and more than a little angry.

     “Yeah, I know,” Stiles replies, dropping his head to the counter. “I'll have to tell Scott; Melissa is gonna be pissed,” he mumbles to the counter top. He hears Derek shift, opens an eye to find Derek looking at him.

     “I won't let him do anything. She won't watch him like she's saying she will, but I'll make sure someone is always with him,” he says.

     Stiles does his best to nod with his head still pressed to the counter; “Thanks. I trust you at least. Hell, you're the only one in your family that actually agrees with me about him, so that's something”.

     “Cora doesn't trust him, and Laura isn't thrilled that he's here either, but neither of them want to say anything because he's family, and mom seems to want him here,” Derek tells him with a shrug.

     “Which is just great. It's not like he attacked my best friend last time he was in town or anything, he should totally be here,” Stiles mutters, glaring at the counter. He sits up when they hear a door slam open.

     “It's bullshit Talia, that's what it is. He's dangerous and he shouldn't be here, you know that,” John yells, making a beeline for the door. “You know where to find me when you come to your senses,” he adds, turning to where Derek and Stiles are in the kitchen doorway. “Derek, you're more than welcome at our house until this whole mess is over with,” he offers. Derek nods his understanding, shooting a look towards his mom as he follows John and Stiles out of the house.

     Stiles watches as his dad storms off the porch to his car, slamming the door shut after he gets in with way more force than necessary. “That went about as well as I expected,” he sighs, turning back to Derek. “I've got some files at home from other hunters, I had them sent over when the whole Kate thing started, I'll see if I can find anything in them to help prove he's up to no good.

     “I'll come help. If we can find his pack it might help convince her,” Derek replies, continuing when Stiles gives him a confused look. “He said he'd been staying somewhere in Washington and his pack had stayed behind, but he's an alpha, and pack members are rarely ever that far apart. So I think he did bring his pack with him and he just doesn't want her to know,” he adds.

     “And if he's trying to hide them from everyone, then they probably aren't fine upstanding citizens,” Stiles replies, grabbing his keys out of his pocket and starting towards the Jeep. “My dad will probably go talk to Melissa, but I'll tell him what we're looking for and see if he can dig anything up,” he says, climbing in the Jeep and starting towards his house.

     His dad does go talk to Melissa, so the house is empty when he gets there, followed shortly by Derek. He grabs the boxes from his room, dropping two of them on the coffee table in front of Derek before taking two of his own to the kitchen. It's gonna be a long night.

     It's almost midnight when Lydia's number flashes across his phone, he's reaching over to answer it when something in the file he's been reading catches his eye. “Hey Derek. Where'd you say Peter's been staying?” he asks, leaving his phone on the table and going to join Derek in the living room. She'll call back, she always does. He drops onto the couch next to Derek practically shoving the file under his nose.

     Derek glares but Stiles ignores it and presses the file further into his space. “He said something about Washington, why?” he asks, taking the file.

     Stiles shoots up off the couch with both fists in the air. “That's it, I found them,” he exclaims. “There was a pack in Washington, three alphas, real violent. A few months after Peter left Beacon Hills the alpha that was in charge turned up dead, the packs been moving around ever since, leaving a trail of bodies behind them,” he adds.

     Derek looks up from the file and shrugs. “And?” he questions. “You found a pack that he _could_ belong to, it doesn't mean he does, and this file doesn't tell you who the other pack members are,” he adds, holding the file up.

     Stiles snatches it out of his hand, flips to a page, drops down on the coffee table in front of Derek and points to the page in front of them. “This right here says there were two other members, a male and a female. You said yourself that pack members are never too far from each other. Kali and Ennis, both alphas, just happen to be conveniently located right outside town,” he explains, giving Derek an expectant look.

     Derek takes the file, reading over the page Stiles had been talking about; “It wouldn't be a **huge** jump to assume that Kali and Ennis are his pack members, but we can't prove it and I doubt any of them are going to admit that they know each other”. He flips through the file, reading a few more pages before closing it and setting it next to Stiles on the coffee table.

     “Can't we make him tell us?” Stiles asks. “I mean, he's not even supposed to be here, if he brought two violent sociopaths to town she has to make him leave,” he adds.

     “They aren't in town though, they're outside it. Unless they come into town and do something, is there really anything you can do?” Derek asks.

     Stiles sighs; “Not technically. I mean, I know where they are so I can drive by and check on them, but that's it. If I could tie them to the three betas that showed up at the high school we could make them leave”.

     “They aren't going to admit to that either, and from what I've heard the betas aren't being very helpful,” Derek replies, relaxing back into the couch with a sigh.

     Stiles grabs the file off the table and stands. “I'll see if I can find anything else,” he says, going back to the kitchen, dropping into the chair with a groan.

     The next time his phone rings it's Scott's picture flashing over the screen, he doesn't answer this time either, figuring Scott will just text him when the call goes unanswered. The second time he's in the other room and misses it. He picks up on the third call though, because this is Scott and if he doesn't answer Scott will just show up anyway. “Yeah dude, what's up?” he asks, propping his phone between his ear and his shoulder so he can keep flipping through the file in his hands.

      _“Something happened,”_ Scott says. His voice is low and wobbly like he's been crying. Stiles stops what he's doing immediately.

     “Are you okay? Was it Peter? I swear to god if he did anything to you-” he starts, Scott cuts him off before he gets too worked up.

      _“It's Lydia. She was attacked,”_ he says, his voice breaking.

     Stiles stops breathing, panic locking down on his windpipe. This can't be happening, not again, not to Lydia. He clears his throat and blinks the burn out of his eyes, hears Derek stop in the doorway of the kitchen. 

     “Is she,” he gasps, unable to finish.

     Scott knows what he means, he always does. _“She's in surgery now,”_ he answers.

     Stiles clenches his fist, vaguely remembering the file in his hand. “I'm coming,” he says, a bit vacant. He feels like his heart is trying to beat out of his chest. He's distantly aware of Derek taking the phone out of his hand, easing the crumpled file out of his fist, and helping him down into one of the dining chairs.

     “I have to-. I have to go,” Stiles says, starting over when his voice breaks. He tries to stand up only to have Derek drop a hand on his shoulder to hold him in place.

     “Just, sit for a minute. Tell me what happened,” Derek says, his voice low.

     Stiles shakes his head. “I don't have time. I have to go,” he repeats, but he doesn't try to stand again.

     “What happened Stiles?” Derek asks.

     Stiles' vision blurs, and when he blinks this time he feels tears rolling down his cheeks. “Lydia was attacked,” he says, eyes fixed on his hands. He clears his throat and wipes his face as he stands up. “She's in surgery now, I want to be there when she wakes up,” he adds.

     “I'll drive you,” Derek says, Stiles' keys already in his hand.

     “You don't have to-,” Stiles starts, Derek cuts him off.

     “You're shaking Stiles, I'm not letting you drive anywhere like that. I'll have Laura pick me up so I can get my car, now come on,” he says, grabbing the sleeve of Stiles' hoodie and pulling him out to the Jeep.

     Scott is waiting by the front desk when he gets there and Stiles wordlessly moves to some empty chairs in a far corner and drops down. “What happened?” he asks.

     “They don't know. Her mom found her outside their back gate, she'd lost a lot of blood,” Scott replies.

     Stiles swallows past the lump in his throat. “Is she gonna be okay?” he asks through clenched teeth.

     “She's still in surgery, but my mom says it sounds like she's doing good,” he answers.

     Stiles lets out a small sigh of relief, his shoulders relaxing slightly. But it's short lived when he looks down at his phone and remembers the call from the hours earlier. “This is my fault Scott,” Stiles says, sliding lower in the chair, his voice hoarse, his eyes rimmed red.

     “It's not and you know it,” Scott replies, dropping into the chair next to him. “There's no way you could've known-”.

     The chair scrapes harshly over the linoleum when Stiles pushes himself up out of it. “I could've been there,” he says, pacing in front of Scott.

     “What? Stiles, you can't protect everyone all the time,” Scott tells him.

     Stiles stops pacing, his hand tightening around his cellphone. “No, Scott. She called me, before it happened, I didn't answer, I assumed she'd call back,” the confession shakes out of him and he throws his phone at the floor, clenching his, now empty, fists. “I could've been there, but I was too busy with-”.

     Scott shoots out of the chair before Stiles can finish, pulling him into a tight hug. “It wasn't your fault Stiles,” he repeats. Stiles just nods into his shoulder and returns his hug. He looks a little better when he steps back, bending down to pick up his phone. “You'll figure out who did it. You always do,” Scott tells him.

     Stiles nods. “Yeah, I'll figure it out,” he says, dropping back into his chair. Scott drops down next to him, getting comfortable. Everything else can wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update, on time even. Five chapters till the end!!!! Enjoy :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles is seeing red already, he doesn't need to hear anymore, Melissa doesn't try and stop him when he stands up to leave. He starts the Jeep and speeds off in the direction of the Hale house; he knows Peter did it, and he's not going to let him get away with it again.
> 
> There's nobody at the house when he gets there, so he gets out of the Jeep and walks around to Peter's open window, pulling himself up and in without a second thought. In hindsight, it's not one of his best ideas, this is made apparent a few minutes later when he hears a car in the driveway, followed by the front door opening and closing. He just settles back against the windowsill, he came here for answers, he doesn't plan on leaving without some.

     Stiles is still at the hospital when Talia shows up the next morning, and he's more than a little surprised when his dad and Deaton follow her into an empty room. He stands to follow them, but his dad levels him with a glare until he sits back down. When Melissa sits down next to him, motioning for him to be quiet he's confused, but he doesn't say anything and she pulls out her phone, putting it on speaker. He can't see who she called, but Talia's voice comes through the speaker and she's his favorite person ever.

      _“It was definitely a wolf that attacked her,”_ Talia says, sounding sure.

      _“She's recovering fairly well considering, but it is a bit worrisome that she hasn't turned,”_ Deaton adds.

      _“I knew this would happen,”_ his dad says, sounding pissed. _“We both told you this would happen if you let him stay,”_ he adds.

      _“You don't know that it was Peter that attacked her,”_ Talia replies.

      _“And you don't know that it wasn't, he doesn't have a great track record when it comes to attacking unsuspecting teenagers,”_ his dad tells her. Stiles can tell that he's actively trying to keep his voice below a yell.

      _“Scott and Stiles mentioned a few new betas at the high school, it could have easily been one of them,”_ Talia says.

      _“Where was he when she was attacked?”_ John asks, his accusation not subtle in the least. Talia doesn't say anything and John scoffs. _“You don't know, do you? You weren't paying attention, like you said you would, and he did it again,”_ he says.

     Stiles is seeing red already, he doesn't need to hear anymore, Melissa doesn't try and stop him when he stands up to leave. He starts the Jeep and speeds off in the direction of the Hale house; he knows Peter did it, and he's not going to let him get away with it again.

     There's nobody at the house when he gets there, so he gets out of the Jeep and walks around to Peter's open window, pulling himself up and in without a second thought. In hindsight, it's not one of his best ideas, this is made apparent a few minutes later when he hears a car in the driveway, followed by the front door opening and closing. He just settles back against the windowsill, he came here for answers, he doesn't plan on leaving without some.

     “I know what you're hiding,” Stiles says, leaning against the windowsill, the picture of calm. Peter continues across the room without pause, dropping his jacket on the end of his bed.

     “Picking up a few things from my nephew I see,” he comments, seemingly unbothered by the intrusion. “The door was unlocked, I have nothing to hide here,” he says, pouring himself a drink.

     “Bullshit,” Stiles curses, stepping forward into the room. “I know you had something to do with what happened to Lydia and I'm going to prove it,” he says, flinching back when Peter laughs.

     “And you plan to prove this how?” Peter asks, a predatory leer on his face. “Cornering me in my room, all alone, unarmed,” he says, stalking forward until there is almost no space between them. “Anything could happen,” he adds, voice low, so close Stiles can almost taste the scotch he'd been drinking. Stiles swallows back a wave of nausea and pushes back, the wall solid and unrelenting behind him. “It's a pity you didn't answer your phone, I could've had you both,” Peter says.

     The words don't even register in Stiles' mind, he's too busy trying to figure a way out of his current situation. He can feel Peter's eyes on him, and for a minute he thinks; _“Shit, this is it”_. But then the door opens behind them, and he doesn't even bother to check who opened it, just darts out into the hallway and collapses back against the wall once he's out of there.

     Cora is standing next to the, now closed, door looking at him like he's lost his mind. “Are you okay Stiles?” she asks.

     Stiles shakes his head till he's dizzy, because no, no he is not okay. “That is the stupidest thing I've ever done, and I fight off werewolves with a baseball bat on a near weekly basis,” he says, once he can breathe well enough to actually talk.

     She nods her agreement. “What were you doing in there anyway?” she asks.

     He pushes off the wall to stand upright. “Proving a point,” he answers.

     “And, what made you think that was a good idea?” she questions, raising an eyebrow.

     He shrugs and replies; “I'm an idiot”. She hums in agreement and starts down the hall. He moves to follow her, catching up easily. “Why does your mom want him here anyway?” he asks.

     She shrugs. “She missed him I guess, he is her brother,” she says.

     “Seriously? He's worse than Kate,” Stiles scoffs, ignoring the death glare Cora levels at him.

     “He's not that bad Stiles,” she says, not letting up on the glare.

     Stiles continues ignoring it. “He is that bad, in fact, he's worse,” he says.

     She rolls her eyes and sighs; “Stiles”.

     “Don't 'Stiles' me. I'm going with my gut on this one, he's giving off some serious Bond villain vibes,” he insists.

     “He's family,” she offers. Which is neither an agreement, nor a disagreement, so Stiles rolls with it.

     “That doesn't change the fact that he's a bad guy,” he says. Cora's face falls a little and Stiles bumps their shoulders together. “I'm sorry, okay, I'm sure if he wanted to he could be a good guy, but I really don't think he's here to redeem himself,” he tells her.

     “I know. He wasn't always a bad guy, but he's changed, even before what happened with Scott he was different. And I think mom can tell, that he's not here for the reason he said he was, because she has been keeping an eye on him. I think she just hopes, you know?” she says. Stiles nods and she continues; “I think she really wants him to go back to how he used to be, and she's willing to overlook what happened before because of it”.

     Stiles gets it, he does, the guy's family, he understands why Talia wants him back, but he's not willing to push aside what he did in hopes that he's not back for a repeat performance. Cora sighs next to him and he looks over at her, his mouth open to ask her what's wrong, but she starts laughing before he can.

     “Derek is gonna be pissed when he finds out that you talked to Peter alone,” she says, laughing harder at the look Stiles has on his face.

     “Are you threatening to tell on me?” he asks, his voice halfway between shocked and mock offended.

     She takes a minute to stop laughing before answering him; “You know he's gonna find out, whether I tell him or not”.

     Stiles scowls halfheartedly. “Whatever, he can deal with it,” he says, because he knows she's right. Inevitably Derek will find out about his ill advised meeting with Peter, and he'll be pissed, and he'll yell about it. Stiles really isn't too worried about it.

     “I won't say anything,” she says, miming a zipper across her lips.

     Stiles smiles and holds his fist out for a fist bump, she rolls her eyes at him but complies. “I knew you had my back,” he tells her.

     She just shakes her head at him. “I'll text you if I'm around when he finds out, at least you'll have a bit of warning before he just shows up,” she says.

     “Thanks, you're the best,” he replies, grabbing his keys out of his pocket and heading for the front door.

     “You're damn right I am,” she calls after him.

     He goes back to the hospital for a while, just to check in, but Melissa pulls him up and pushes him out the doors after a few hours, insisting he needs a shower, real food, and some sleep, she promises to call him if anything changes. So he goes home, he picks at some leftovers, not really interested in eating, and he heads upstairs to take a shower. He's sprawled face down on his bed when he gets Cora's warning text, and he groans as he gets up to meet Derek before he gets in the house.

     Stiles knows that if he tries to ignore him Derek will have no qualms about letting himself in the house just to argue, so he decides to meet him out front, that way he'll at least have the opportunity to slam the door in Derek's face when he's done talking to him.

     Derek is getting out of his car when Stiles gets outside. “What were you thinking?” he asks as soon as he's close enough, his voice demanding.

     “I can always count on you for a dramatic entrance,” Stiles scoffs, rolling his eyes when Derek just glares at him. “I know he's the one that attacked her, I needed to prove it,” he adds.

     Derek stops glaring, but he doesn't look any less irritated. “By yourself? Stiles, he could've killed you,” he says.

     “It was Lydia, Derek, what did you want me to do, just sit back and wait? Hope you guys caught on before he did it again?” he yells. Derek looks a little stunned, so Stiles continues on; “I wasn't going to take that chance, not after what happened to Scott”.

     Derek deflates a little at that. “What happened to Scott wasn't your fault Stiles,” he says, hands shoved in his pockets, eyes on the ground.

     Stiles rolls his eyes. “That doesn't matter. He did it once and I will prove that he's responsible for what happened to Lydia, I don't care what it takes,” he mutters, his voice harsh.

     “Would you stop,” Derek yells, he looks really angry now, a blue glow taking over his eyes briefly, just until he blinks it away.

     Stiles isn't intimidated in the least. “Stop what?” he yells back.

     Derek moves closer, close enough that anyone else would be flinching back, there's a growl in his voice when he replies; “Stop trying to sacrifice yourself to protect us”.

     Stiles doesn't even flinch, he levels Derek with a glare of his own and takes another step forward. “I can protect myself Derek, you don't need to worry about me,” he spits, turning and walking back in the house, slamming the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Four more chapters!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He goes to Deaton first, in a weak attempt at putting off the inevitable. Deaton doesn't seem surprised to see him. “I'm guessing Stiles has been here,” Derek says.
> 
> Deaton nods. “He asked about my experience as your family's emissary. I don't think he got the answers he wanted,” he replies, giving Derek an expectant look. When Derek does nothing but groan in response he keeps talking; “Stiles is a very well trained hunter, he is more than capable of protecting your family, and himself”.
> 
> “So you're on his side?” Derek asks. He refuses to pout, he's an adult dammit, but he does square his shoulder's and cross his arms over his chest. He wouldn't be surprised to find out Deaton agreed with Stiles, he's seen the scars Deaton has, clearly his mother hadn't had the same problems Derek is having.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I'm sorry this update took so long. I was having internet issues :/ Anyway, enjoy :) This chapter is from Derek's POV.

     “Has anyone heard from Stiles?” Derek asks, moving his phone from his ear when his tenth call goes unanswered.

     Laura raises an eyebrow at him; “Worried Der?”.

     He ignores her and turns to Cora who shrugs. “After your **talk** with him yesterday, maybe he just doesn't feel like talking anymore,” she tells him, grabbing her stuff and leaving the kitchen, shooting a glare his way on her way out.

     Derek drops into the kitchen chair Cora had just vacated, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “You had a 'talk'?” Laura questions, the implication clear in her voice.

     Derek scoffs; “If you could call it that”. She gestures for him to continue. “I found out that he confronted Peter, alone, about what happened to Lydia and I went to talk to him about it,” he says.

     “By _talk_ do you mean yell?” she asks.

     “No, not at first anyway. But when I told him Peter could've killed him, he acted like it didn't matter, said that at least we'd have proof,” he replies. She nods, like she's agreeing, and starts talking before he can tell her off.

     “I'm not saying that I agree with him, but he does have a point,” she says. Derek glares, his eyes flashing briefly. Laura just laughs at him and returns the gesture. “So what, you yelled at him for that?” she questions.

     Derek stands up to pace, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. “Yeah, I yelled and I told him to stop trying to sacrifice himself for our sake,” he admits.

     “It's kind of in his job description Der. He's an emissary, **your** emissary, it's his job to protect you by any means necessary,” Laura says.

     “He didn't ask for that,” Derek snarls before he can stop himself. He takes a few deep breaths, closing his eyes against the blue he can feel bleeding into them. “I won't let him die to prove a point Laura,” he says, calmer this time.

     “I'm not sure you can stop him. You've tried this argument before Derek, and he shut you down then too,” she says, dropping down off where she'd been sitting on the counter and moving to the sink. “Maybe before you try and go back after him with the same argument as before, you should think about why you feel so strongly about it,” she adds.

     “You want me to think about why I don't want him to die for us?” he asks, his confusion clear.

     Laura sighs, putting her cup down and turning to face him, leaning back against the counter. “First you didn't want him to be your emissary at all, then you were fine with it, and now you're back on this again. Danger is part of being an emissary Derek, you've seen Deaton's scars, heard the stories,” she says.

     Derek sighs. “Just because it's part of the job, doesn't mean I have to be okay with it,” he argues, dropping back down into his chair.

     “If it was someone else, would it be different?” she asks. Derek freezes at that, he hadn't thought about it like that before. “ **That** is what you need to think about Derek,” she tells him, turning and walking out of the kitchen.

     He knows she's right; he doesn't like the idea of anyone sacrificing themselves, but if it was anybody else it'd be a bit easier for him to accept it as a part of their job and move on. Derek pushes himself out of the chair with a groan, he really hates when his sister is right.

     He goes to Deaton first, in a weak attempt at putting off the inevitable. Deaton doesn't seem surprised to see him. “I'm guessing Stiles has been here,” Derek says.

     Deaton nods. “He asked about my experience as your family's emissary. I don't think he got the answers he wanted,” he replies, giving Derek an expectant look. When Derek does nothing but groan in response he keeps talking; “Stiles is a very well trained hunter, he is more than capable of protecting your family, and himself”.

     “So you're on his side?” Derek asks. He refuses to pout, he's an adult dammit, but he does square his shoulders and cross his arms over his chest. He wouldn't be surprised to find out Deaton agreed with Stiles, he's seen the scars Deaton has, clearly his mother hadn't had the same problems Derek is having.

     Deaton looks up from his computer, something that rarely happens when you talk to him at the clinic, and sighs. “Wanting to protect him isn't a bad thing, but you can't let it interfere with his position as emissary,” he says, talking over Derek when he opens his mouth to interrupt. “I will however, agree that his meeting with Peter alone wasn't very well thought out, I told him as much,” he adds.

     Derek can't help the smug smirk at that, but it's gone as soon as it came when Deaton gives him that vaguely disappointed look that's always unsettled him.

     “Like I told Stiles, Talia wasn't heartless, it's not like she purposely put me in harms way. But your mom has always put the safety of her pack above all else, and I've got a few battle scars to prove it,” he says.

     Derek makes a face at that, it just rubs him the wrong way. He knows his mom isn't heartless, he knows she wouldn't put anyone in harm's way purposely, that's not the part he's having a problem with. “Stiles is pack,” he says. He thinks at this point that much should be obvious. Stiles has always been pack, the Stilinski's have been around longer than Derek can remember, why wouldn't he consider Stiles part of the pack.

     There's a weird little half smile on Deaton's face when Derek looks up, but it drops as soon as Deaton sees him looking, and Derek isn't going to ask about it. “I can't tell you how to solve this. My experience as emissary was different than Stiles', but, like I told him, you two have to start working together, or the whole pack will suffer for it,” he says.

     Derek sighs, takes that as the prompting it clearly was, and leaves the vet clinic to talk to Stiles. He stays in the car for a while after he parks, he has no idea what he's supposed to say, but he knows this conversation needs to go over better than the one they'd had yesterday. Less yelling would probably be a good idea. He still doesn't know what he's going to say when he gets out and knocks on the door, but he'll figure it out.

     “What part of the, seventeen, ignored phone calls said you should show up on my doorstep?” Stiles asks when he opens the door. He doesn't look surprised to see Derek, but he doesn't exactly look thrilled either.

     “I need to talk to you,” Derek replies. He's not surprised when Stiles doesn't move from his spot, blocking Derek from getting through the door.

     “I'm really not in the mood to talk,” he says, moving to close the door.

     “Stiles, wait,” Derek says, stepping forward to hold the door open slightly. “I'm sorry, okay,” he adds. Stiles doesn't move to let him in, but he doesn't try and close the door any further, so Derek continues; “I talked to Deaton, and he told me what he told you, about being my mom's emissary”.

     Stiles sighs and moves back, pulling the door open and gesturing for Derek to come in. “Let's just, get this over with, since you aren't leaving,” he says, in lieu of an explanation.

     Derek steps through to the living room, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. “I can't be like my mom, I can't put the safety of the pack over your safety, because you're part of our pack. Even before you were emissary, I thought you knew that,” he says.

     “Being part of the pack was fine before, but I'm your emissary now, some things have to change and you have to deal with it,” Stiles says, through clenched teeth.

     “Will you just stop,” Derek yells, unable to stop the blue bleeding into his eyes. This isn't exactly how he'd wanted this conversation to go, but it'll work.

     “Oh, you're gonna pull alpha eyes on me now? It's never worked before, and all the other people that tried wanted me dead. Besides, it's a lot less intimidating considering you're not actually an alpha, so you're gonna have to try a bit harder,” Stiles spits back, venom seeping into his voice.

     “I've told you before about the self-sacrifice, I don't want to have this conversation again,” he says, calmer but no less insistent.

     Stiles scoffs; “Then don't, because it won't work any better this time around”. Stiles moves forward abruptly, every line of his body edged with carefully contained fury and he shoves a finger into Derek's chest. “When are you going to get off your fucking high horse and accept the fact that as long as it's **my life** that I'm sacrificing, you don't get a say in it?” he questions.

     Derek grabs at Stiles' wrist when he goes to turn away and holds him in place. “It's not just about you anymore,” he says, his voice softer than he'd intended. He was supposed to be angry, demanding even, but what comes out is closer to desperation than anything.

     He feels Stiles' pulse rocket beneath his fingers, sees the line of his shoulders ease slightly, for a minute everything is quiet, then Stiles speaks; “I'll agree that the thing with Peter wasn't one of my best thought out plans, but I saw the connection and I got desperate”. He looks up from Derek's hand on his arm to meet his eyes. “I know he did it Derek, **I know** it was him, and I had to do something, I had to prove it, at least a little bit, before I mentioned it to anyone else. I couldn't go to your mom about it, you know how she is, she would have told me I was being paranoid and ignored it, I couldn't let that happen, not after what happened to Lydia,” he says, his pulse evening out under Derek's fingers.

     “So come to me,” Derek says, his voice still low, still too close to desperate. “I know how they are, and I know what they think, but I'm on your side here Stiles. I've always been on your side,” he adds. And maybe it's more of an admission than he'd meant to make, but it's important that Stiles knows he's serious.

     Stiles drops their eye contact with a sigh. “I know, you're right. I just, I got pissed, and I got scared, and I acted without thinking, it happens,” he says. Stiles pulls at his wrist and drags his, now free, hand through his hair when Derek lets him go. “I'll make you a deal,” he says with a smirk, hoping to clear the tense anticipation he's feeling. “If you promise to stop trying to tell me what I can and can't do, I promise I will limit my near death experiences-” Derek is glaring at him so Stiles changes his course of action; “I will stop causing my own near death experiences?” he says, phrasing it like a question.

     Derek seems to think about it for a minute, which is a good sign, before he replies; “Just, tell me first, the next time you decide to do something stupid”. He shakes his head and adds; “Specifically, something stupid that could get you killed”.

     “Oh, ha ha. You know, you're not nearly as funny as you think you are,” Stiles tells him, punching at his shoulder.

     “Deal?” Derek questions.

     Stiles nods; “Yeah, deal. Next time I decide to confront your creepy uncle, or stalk off into the woods to be kidnapped, or follow Kate to a seedy motel outside of town, you'll be the first to know”.

     Derek raises an eyebrow. “You followed Kate?” he asks.

     “Obviously,” Stiles scoffs. “She's almost as bad as Peter, and I fully intend to get them both the hell out of here,” he adds.

     Derek's reply is interrupted by his phone, a text from his mother. “I have to go, Cora has a game and someone has to be home with Peter,” he says. “Thank you, for not slamming the door in my face when I got here,” he adds.

     Stiles looks a little surprised at that, but he shrugs it off soon enough. “Yeah, no problem,” he says. Derek thinks maybe there's more that he wants to add to that, but Stiles shakes his head and looks back up at him, smiling. “Have fun with your creepy uncle,” he says, following Derek to the door.

     Everyone is already gone when Derek gets home, and Peter is out sitting on the front porch, his eyes closed and his face tilted up towards the sky. “Everything better in paradise?” he asks when Derek stops next to him, without opening his eyes.

     “Stay away from Stiles,” Derek tells him, barely keeping the growl out of his voice.

     Peter smiles. “My my dear nephew, you're far past saving aren't you?” he mocks, opening his eyes now to look up at Derek. “Stiles certainly is intriguing isn't he,” he adds, something in his tone makes Derek uneasy, his fists clenching. Peter laughs at the action; “Don't worry, he's too young for me. Besides, I don't think he likes me very much”.

     “Come on, let's go in the house. You aren't even supposed to be out here,” Derek says. Peter pouts but stands from his spot on the porch and turns to go inside.

     Derek doesn't even reach the first step of the porch before he feels a sharp pain in his neck and the world goes fuzzy around him. He hears a woman's voice, feels a burn in his wrists as a rope is wrapped around them, then everything goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, again, for how long this took to update, I'm really bad about doing things on time :/ I may get another chapter up today, if not I'll try and add the remaining chapters every day, or at the very least every other day like I'm supposed to. Three more chapters to go! I hope you're liking it so far :)


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles scoffs. "Unless you're here for a reason, I have other things to worry about," he tells her, turning back towards the front door only to stop in his tracks. 
> 
> "I heard. You're boyfriend's giving you the cold shoulder huh? Do you think you'll kiss and make up, or is this the end for Beacon Hills favorite power couple?" she comments, she's still smiling when he turns around to glare at her. 
> 
> "Where is he?" he spits. 
> 
> "Oh sweetheart, that's way above my pay grade," she tells him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at that, updating on time!! We're back to Stiles' POV, enjoy :)

     Stiles is standing at the sink when it happens. He feels a sharp pain in his neck, things blur around him, his knees go weak, then everything goes black. It's all over in a matter of seconds, leaving Stiles clutching at his kitchen sink wondering what the hell just happened. Whatever it was, Stiles knows it can't be good.

     His first thought is to call Derek, because maybe he'll know what it was, or at the very least maybe he felt it too. It's not until the first unanswered call that Stiles realizes his heart is making a valiant effort to beat out of his chest. He takes a second to calm down, thinking it has something to do with whatever the hell just happened, by the third unanswered call he's worried.

     He tries three more times, just to annoy Derek, before giving up with an annoyed huff. He's thinking of leaving an obnoxious voicemail, it would serve Derek right for ignoring him, but he can't shake the feeling that something isn't right. He goes back to his contacts, hovers over his dad's name for a minute chewing the skin off his lip, before writing it off as an over reaction and dialing Cora's number instead.

     "Where's Derek? He's not answering his phone," Stiles says, the second the call connects.

      _"Hello to you too,"_ Cora mutters. Stiles huffs an impatient sigh and waits. _"Jeez, okay. He wasn't here when we got home, Peter said he went out for some air,"_ she answers, finally. 

     That's when Stiles **knows** something is wrong. "He wouldn't just leave Cora," he tells her.

      _"That's what I said. I guess everybody figured he was with you,"_ she replies.

     Stiles starts pacing, his free hand coming up to tangle in his hair and pull. "Well he's not," he says. Cora hums on the other end of the line, like this isn't a big deal. Stiles seriously regrets not calling his dad. "He's not here Cora, and he's not with you, and he isn't answering his phone," he snaps, harsher than he'd meant to.

      _"He's a big boy Stiles, he can take care of himself. But if it'll make you feel better I'll have Laura call him. He's probably off brooding in the woods somewhere,"_ she says, sounding amused. 

     He's about to snap again, because there's nothing amusing about this, and if Derek isn't answering his calls why would he answer Laura, but when he looks up from the floor his eyes catch on Kali standing across the street and he freezes.

      _"Stiles?"_ Cora questions. Stiles hears shifting on the other line, and he almost laughs, her missing brother doesn't get more than a hum of acknowledgment, but Stiles stops talking for a second and she's ready to pounce.

     "Just, let me know if he answers," he says, absentmindedly, as he hangs up and heads to the front door.

     She's still standing there when he gets outside, right at the end of his driveway, her arms crossed over her chest. She smiles when she sees him, like her standing at the end of his driveway isn't a big deal, like Derek wouldn't kill her if he knew she was here.

     "What are you doing here?" he asks, leaning against the porch railing.

     Her smile grows, flashing her canines, no less threatening in her human form. "What? You're not going to invite me inside?" she taunts.

     Stiles scoffs. "Unless you're here for a reason, I have other things to worry about," he tells her, turning back towards the front door only to stop in his tracks.

     "I heard. Your boyfriend's giving you the cold shoulder huh? Do you think you'll kiss and make up, or is this the end for Beacon Hills favorite power couple?" she comments, she's still smiling when he turns around to glare at her.

     "Where is he?" he spits.

     "Oh sweetheart, that's way above my pay grade," she tells him.

     "Then why are you here Kali? If you didn't take him, what do you want?" he snaps. Fucking werewolves, he is so beyond done.

     "We're leaving," she starts, dropping her arms to hang at her sides. "Or, I am at least. I can't speak for any other unwelcome guests," she adds.

     Stiles rolls his eyes. "So, what? You want me to throw you a going away party?" he snarks. She laughs, a low, rough, sound that grates over Stiles skin and leaves a pit in his stomach.

     "I came to ask for a truce," she tells him, finally.

     He feels his mouth drop open for a second before he snaps it shut again, shaking himself a bit to try and make sense of the request. "A truce?" he asks, drawing a blank.

     "Yes. A truce, between me and your pack. I don't particularly care for this ramshackle little town, but it brings back memories, and I'd like to be allowed to return if I choose to," she answers, pacing a bit on the sidewalk.

     "You expect me to just, grant you a truce? After everything that's happened since you two blew into town," Stiles says, disbelief coloring his voice.

     She shakes her head, tilting it up towards the sky briefly before turning to meet his eyes. "The truce is for me and no one else. Ennis is no more my pack than Deucalion was, and he has no reason to want to return to Beacon Hills. I will follow your rules, should I return. No humans harmed, no Hales challenged, I'll behave myself," she tells him.

     And, he's thrown. She seems sincere, nothing in her body language suggests otherwise, but there has to be a catch somewhere, there always is. "What's the catch?" he asks.

     She looks confused, and mildly insulted. "Excuse me?" she asks.

     "Well, you aren't lying, so there has to be a catch. Tell me what it is and we can get this over with," he replies.

     She looks him over, in a way that Stiles has come to attribute with the whole 'werewolf super-nonsense', and she seems surprised by whatever she finds. "I do have a, request," she tells him, pacing again.

     "People usually do. So, out with it. What do you want?" he asks.

     "You need to protect your bond," she says, catching him totally by surprise.

     "I, what?" he asks.

     "There are people out there, hunters, who will try to take it from you. You need to guard it," Kali warns, her eyes fixed on the ground, her face grim.

     "Take it from me? How do you take a bond?" Stiles asks.

     Kali pulls the sleeve of her shirt up and holds her arm above her head, palm towards Stiles. Right above the crook of her elbow there's a mark, a triangle with three jagged lines coming out of it, the symbol of the Alpha pack. Through it though, is a scar, like someone had taken a hot poker to it. Stiles can see the scars running up her arm, over her palm, all connected to the burn through the symbol.

     "They break it, burn it out of you. It's excruciating, for you and your bond mate, and once it's broken it cannot be repaired," she answers, almost under her breath.

     Stiles eyes widen at the realization, and he just barely stops himself from bolting off the porch to investigate the mark further. "You had an emissary," he says, she nods her confirmation needlessly, Stiles knows it's true, he's looking at the proof. "What happened?" he asks, needing to know.

     "I was foolish. I let my heart get the better of me, and Deucalion burned it out of both of us," she tells him. She looks, for the first time since Stiles had met her, fragile, but it's brief. She rolls her neck and squares her shoulders, letting the steel drop into her eyes again, her arms crossed over her chest. "I have something for you, something you and your pack could find very useful. If you agree to this truce, I'll be sure it gets to you," she says, the smile back on her face.

     Stiles scoffs again and shakes his head. "I'll give you the truce, but if you break it, I won't hesitate to kill you," Stiles says, eyes on the porch.

     Her smile grows, "I'd expect nothing less". She's gone when he looks up again, and for the first time since she'd showed up in town he isn't sure if he should be worried or not.

     He's back in the kitchen when Cora's name flashes across his phone and he can't decide if he should feel relieved or terrified. The feelings tangle together, leaving a pit of nausea in his stomach. He answers the phone and waits, his nausea only getting worse the longer the silence stretches on.

     “Cora?” he questions, once the silence becomes unbearable. 

      _“Something's wrong,”_ she says, her voice small. _“They don't-. They won't believe me, but I know something is wrong,”_ she adds.

     And, yeah, that's what Stiles was afraid of. “What happened?” he asks. He hears her sniffle, like she's been crying, and he decides this is something they can talk about while he's driving. He grabs his keys, leaves a note for his dad, sends a text to Scott, and gets in his Jeep.

      _“He didn't answer Laura either, and Peter just keeps saying he went out for some air, nobody knows where he is, and he won't even answer me. I'm worried,”_ she says. 

     “Yeah, me too,” he admits, stopping outside Scott's house. “I'm on my way alright, I'll figure out what's going on,” he says. Scott climbs in the Jeep and gives him a funny look that Stiles waves off. “I'll talk to you when I get there Cora,” he says. 

      _“Alright, see you soon,”_ she says, before hanging up.

     “Dude, what's going on?” Scott asks.

     “Derek is missing, I think, and I'm gonna find out where he is,” he replies.

     “You think?” Scott questions.

     Stiles sighs and turns down the road to the Hale's. “He wasn't home when they got back from Cora's volleyball game, Peter was there alone, and Derek wouldn't just leave Peter alone like that. So, I'm going to find out what Peter knows,” he says.

     Scott gives him a look, but stays quiet and follows Stiles out of the Jeep when they get to the house. “Where is he?” Stiles demands, the second he's in the door. He finds Peter seated in the living room and moves towards him.

     Peter smiles. “Where's whom?” he asks.

     “You know who, now where is he. Because you and I both know your story is bullshit,” Stiles says.

     “How do you know? Were you here?” Peter asks, his smile still in place. Talia has entered the room now, and Laura is by the front door where Scott stopped.

     Stiles sees the challenge on Peter's face and doesn't back down. “No, but I know what I **felt** , so try and explain that away,” he spits. 

     “What you felt?” Talia asks. Stiles flicks his gaze up from Peter briefly to meet her eyes.

     “Yeah. Our bond, or whatever. Deaton said it's suppose to let me know if he's in distress, and right before I called Cora I was standing in my kitchen and I almost blacked out,” he explains. The surprise on her face is genuine, and Stiles can tell she's worried now, but the look on Peter's face is priceless. His eyes go wide once he realizes Stiles isn't lying, and he looks, almost, scared.

     “So, where is he really?” Stiles asks, his eyes back on Peter.

     The smile is back on his face between one blink and the next. “I have no idea. Sorry, I do wish I could help,” he says. “Surely I'm not the only person you could think to ask,” he adds, looking smug.

     “No, actually, I have a few more people in mind,” he says, to Peter's surprise. “Don't let him leave,” he snaps, looking at Talia. He doesn't wait for her to reply, just turns and walks back out the front door, Scott and Laura in tow.

     They are, understandably confused when he takes them to the motel, but Stiles doesn't stop to answer their questions, just grabs his gun and goes.

     Stiles doesn't bother to knock, just barges in, bat in hand, and strides right up to where Kali is lounging. She looks at him, bored but slightly amused, and Stiles pulls his gun, pressing the barrel to the skin of her forehead. “Where's Derek?” he demands.

     Her smile is all sharp, twisting her once pretty face into something straight out of a horror movie. “You better be careful where you're pointing that thing boy. Someone could get hurt,” she says.

     He cock's the gun, sets his grip and smiles; “That's kind of the point”.

     Ennis starts over, claws and fangs bared, his face more animal than human. Stiles moves the gun from Kali's forehead to point it at Ennis and shoot. Ennis hits the ground.

     Kali shifts, eyes flaring red, and Stiles has the gun back on her. “I wouldn't do that if I were you,” he tells her. She settles back in her seat. “Now, tell me where Derek is,” he says.

     “What makes you think I know that?” she spits, her eyes shifting over Ennis' still form before landing back on Stiles, glaring, red glowing in her eyes.

     He cock's the gun again and keeps her eye contact. “I'm not playing a game here. You have one more chance to answer my question, or you end up like him. Where is Derek,” he repeats, demanding.

     “The Hale vault,” she growls. He lowers the gun and turns to leave. “But you're too late. He's long dead by now,” she taunts.

     Stiles stops at the door. “If he is, I'll be back for you,” he says, pushing the door open.

     “He was right about you,” she calls out after him. He's too worried about Derek to ask what she means by that.

     Stiles curses when he drops his keys, the adrenaline in his system making him shake.

     “Are you okay Stiles?” Scott asks, picking his keys up off the ground. Stiles can hardly hear him through the ringing in his ears.

     “I'm fine,” he says.

     Scott looks skeptical. “You just **shot** someone Stiles,” he reminds him, his voice nearly inaudible now.

     “I did. They've killed people, they kidnapped Derek; I'm not sorry,” Stiles replies, his voice sounding panicked to his own ears.

     Scott places a hand on his shoulder, meeting Stiles' eyes; “But you're not okay either”.

     Stiles shakes his head, swallowing the bile he can feel climbing up his throat and bringing a hand up to rub the burn from behind his eyes. “He can't be dead Scott,” Stiles rasps.

     Scott's hand tightens on his shoulder; “He's not”.

     Stiles shakes his head again; “You can't know that”. He swallows past the lump in his throat. “What if she's right?” he asks.

     That kicked puppy look is back on Scott's face. “Dude, don't say that. She was just trying to get in your head,” he says.

     “But I can't feel him anymore Scott. He's just gone,” Stiles replies, looking down at his shoes when he feels tears prick at his eyes.

     “Look at me Stiles,” Scott tells him. Stiles does, slowly. “He's fine, okay. You have to believe that,” he repeats. It takes him a minute, but Stiles eventually nods his agreement.

     Scott's right, Derek can't be dead, and if Stiles goes into this thinking that he is nothing is going to get done. Stiles takes a deep breath, the weight that had been building on his chest ebbing away. Scott hands him his keys with a small smile. “Now, what's the plan?” he asks.

     Stiles draws a blank. There hadn't been a plan really, he was going to jump in the Jeep, find his way into the vault, and shoot anyone between him and Derek. Now though, he could see the many ways in which that plan could go very, **very** , wrong. “I don't actually know,” he admits, clenching his fist against the tremor in his hand.

     Scott gives him a disbelieving look. “You know where the vault is?” he asks.

     Stiles nods; “Under the school”.

     “Then go get him,” Scott tells him. “Me and Laura can stay here and wait for Talia and your dad,” he says. “Just, try to be careful,” he adds as an afterthought.

     Stiles smirks. “I'm always careful,” he says, climbing in the Jeep, setting the gun on the passenger seat next to him.

     “Sure you are,” Scott replies, pushing the door shut. “Call me when you find him,” he says. Stiles just nods and drives off.

     He's still buzzing with adrenaline when he pulls up to the school. He takes a deep breath, lets it out slowly, and wills his hands to stop shaking as he shuts off the Jeep, dropping the keys in the cup holder and getting out into the empty parking lot. The door to the gym is standing open, and Stiles has flashbacks to every horror movie he's ever seen, but he goes in bat first and hopes for the best.

     The vault is open too when he gets down to the basement, and Kate is standing on the opposite side of the room gun in hand. Derek is slouched in a chair, his hands and feet tied, his head down, and what Stiles can see of his chest is a mess of blood and burns. Kate is standing behind him, so Stiles decides to keep his gun where it is.

     “I should've known I'd find you here. I've been telling them since day one,” Stiles says.

     Kate smiles at him. “Don't worry, I didn't hurt him too much. You can still kiss Sleeping Beauty awake,” she mocks.

     “You think I'm just going to let you walk out of here?” Stiles asks, narrowing his eyes at her.

     She scoffs, dropping her gun to rest on Derek's shoulder, smiling when Stiles' entire body tenses. “You aren't here for me Stilinski. Face it, you'll let me do whatever I want as long as you and lover-boy get out of here alive,” she says.

     Stiles clenches his jaw and glares. He hates that she's right.

     “Come on Stilinski, who's more important? Me, or your precious werewolf?” Kate taunts from her spot behind Derek. Stiles tightens his grip on his baseball bat and takes in the distance between them. “Don't try to think your way out of this one, it won't work. There's only one way out,” she tells him.

     “How do I know he's still alive?” he's trying to stall, hoping to keep her here until his dad and Talia show up. She smiles in a way that immediately sets Stiles' nerves on edge.

     “Well, all you had to do was ask,” she says, pulling a nightstick off her belt. “I wouldn't worry too much, you'll barely even feel it,” she adds, seeing him tense. She presses the nightstick to the skin of Derek's back, right where the Triskelion is, and presses a button.

     Stiles feels the accompanying zap like a ripple starting at his Triskelion and spreading throughout, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and making goosebumps break out on his arms. Derek's head lolls and Stiles sees his sharp intake of breath, but his eyes don't open.

     “I was very considerate with the last dose, he won't be conscious for a while now, but that little zap was more than enough to tell you that he's alive,” she says.

     Stiles knows she's telling the truth, if Derek was dead he wouldn't have felt that zap, he knew that much. He grits his teeth and meets her eyes. “I won't let you get away with this,” he spits.

     She laughs out loud, even going so far as to throw her head back. “You're letting me walk out of here alive, I already have gotten away with it,” she says, swinging her hips in an exaggerated sway as she passes him.

     “I will find you Kate,” Stiles growls.

     Her footsteps stop and she huffs a small laugh. “I'm looking forward to it,” she replies, an edge of excitement in her voice, before she continues out of the vault.

     Stiles is at Derek's side before Kate's footsteps have even fully faded. He checks for a pulse first, just in case, and feels it steady under his shaking fingers. He lets out a sigh of relief and flattens his hand against it. “You are more trouble than you should be,” he mumbles before moving to untie the ropes at Derek's wrists and ankles.

     He calls Laura once Derek is untied, sitting by his feet with his back against one of Derek's legs. “I found him. He's fine, he is, however, unconscious and heavy, so a little help getting him out of here would be appreciated,” he says before she can get a word in.

      _“We're almost there. Fair warning, my mom and your dad are pissed that you took off by yourself,”_ she replies.

     Stiles tips his head back, resting it against Derek's thigh. “I got him back alive, they'll deal with it,” he tells her, hanging up before she can argue. “ **Way** more trouble than you should be,” he says, to Derek this time.

     A little while later Stiles jumps when a loud scraping sound echos through the room, and he turns to see Talia and his dad making their way down a set of stairs he hadn't noticed.

     He expects to be yelled at, or at the very least interrogated, but his dad just helps him up off the ground and pulls him into a hug before moving to help Talia get Derek back up the stairs they'd just come down.

     “I thought you said they were mad at me?” he says, moving to stand by Laura.

     She gives him a pitying look. “They are, but, and I mean this in the nicest way possible, you look like hell,” she tells him, dropping a hand onto his shoulder. He sees black lines move up her arm, leeching pain he didn't realize he was feeling.

     “I'll have to remember that for next time,” he mutters to himself, following his dad and Talia up the stairs. He doesn't want to, but he lets Talia put Derek in her own car and he follows them to Deaton's.

     Scott is waiting for them at the clinic and Stiles is immediately pulled into a suffocating hug. “Nice to see you too buddy,” Stiles says, returning the hug.

     “So who was it? Who had him?” Scott asks when he pulls back, keeping a hand on Stiles' arm to leech pain.

     “It was Kate,” he says, meeting Talia's eyes. She actually looks shocked. “That's right, Kate. Still think I'm being paranoid?” he says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any questions, suggestions, things you like or don't, chat with me in the comments, I'm happy to talk with you!! :)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles' breath rattles out of him as he releases the breath he'd been holding. “Holy shit, what did you just do?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Derek's chest is heaving, the red in his eyes bright, and Stiles can see his hands shaking from where he's standing across the room. 
> 
> Everyone is still quiet, painfully so, and Stiles can feel it buzzing in his ears. He crosses the room slowly, so slow he doesn't know he's moving til he's there, next to Derek with his hand on Derek's arm. “Derek,” he says, voice low, hand tightening around Derek's bicep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One chapter left! Enjoy :)

     “Kate did this?” Talia questions, her eyes fixed on Deaton.

     “That's right, Kate,” Stiles yells, not moving from his spot next to Derek.

     “Stiles,” Scott warns, his voice low, placing a hand on Stiles' shoulder.

     “Don't 'Stiles' me. I was right, I have been all along,” Stiles says, pushing off the table to pace. “I told you Kate was up to something, I told you she was the one that shot at Laura, I told you she needed to leave. None of you listened, and look what happened,” he adds, yelling again.

     “I told you Stiles, he's fine. The drug she administered will work it's way out of his system soon, and he'll have some bruises for a few days, that's all,” Deaton tells him.

     Stiles crosses his arms over his chest and goes back to leaning against the table next to Derek. “I know he's fine, I can tell remember? I'm still pissed,” he says, glaring at Talia. “If they'd just trusted me when I told them, none of this would have happened,” he insists.

     “Of course we trust you Stiles,” Laura says, sounding smaller than she has any right too. He is rightfully pissed, he will not apologize dammit.

     “You're not the problem Laura,” Stiles replies, eyes still fixed on Talia.

     She stands taller and meets his eyes, her mouth set in a hard line. “I will not apologize for disagreeing with you. In this case you were right, but I had no reason to believe you, you aren't exactly level headed when it comes to dealing with Argent's,” she says.

     “Haven't I proven myself to you? I saved your life, your family. I think that's more than worth a little trust,” Stiles replies, standing straight again, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “And besides that, I am Derek's emissary, that makes me pack,” he tells her.

     “That makes you **his** pack, not ours,” she spits back, red creeping around her irises, daring him to challenge her.

     Stiles scoffs at her and grabs his bat from next to Derek. “Let me know if he wakes up before I get back,” he says to Scott, waiting for his nod to turn towards the door.

     “Where are you going?” Laura asks on his way by.

     He's sure to meet Talia's eyes while he replies, almost wanting her to try and stop him. “I'm going to make sure Kate doesn't do this again,” he says.

     Talia breaks their eye contact to stand by Deaton and Stiles smirks. He can't help but feel like he won. When he turns to leave again he notices Laura following him. “Where do you think you're going?” he asks.

     She rolls her eyes at him. “With you. Derek will never let me hear the end of it if I let you get yourself killed while he's out,” she says.

     Stiles smirks at her and keeps walking towards the Jeep. “I knew you liked me,” he says, cringing a bit when Laura punches him. “Giant saps, you and your brother both,” he adds as they get in the Jeep and drive off.

     Stiles slams the door to his Jeep and barges into the motel room gun first only to stop dead in his tracks. “Allison?” he questions, his gun wavering in his hand.

     She looks up at him, flipping a knife between her fingers like it's nothing. “Stiles,” she greets.

     “What are you doing here?” he asks, lowering his gun slightly. Behind him Laura tenses, ready for a fight.

     “We're leaving town, she said you'd want to know,” she replies. Her steady heartbeat tells Stiles that she's not lying, or in distress, but he still can't make sense of her being here.

     “We?” he asks.

     “Me and my aunt. We talked this morning, she told me everything,” she answers.

     Stiles scoffs. “I'm willing to bet she didn't,” he tells her.

     She stands up, pocketing the knife and grabbing a set of keys off the dresser next to her. “She told me what I needed to know,” she says.

     “Did she tell you she tried to kill Derek?” he snaps, lowering his gun completely. She smiles a little at that and Stiles fails to see what was funny there.

     “She was hired to do that. Besides, she returned him to you, safe and sound,” she replies.

     “Do you really think we're just going to let her leave after that?” Laura growls.

     “What do you mean she was hired?” Stiles asks, anxiety curling hot in the pit of his stomach.

     “That's why she came to town in the first place. Someone hired her to test your pack, or more to the point, you,” she explains.

     “Me? Why would someone want to test me?” Stiles asks.

     Allison huffs a laugh and shakes her head. “Because Stiles, you're an emissary, your power is only growing. There are a lot of people out there that will feel threatened by that and want to stop it,” she says, looking at him like he should know.

     Stiles laughs at that, actually laughs. You could fill books with what he **doesn't** know about being an emissary. “Okay, lets pretend for a second that this actually makes sense,” he starts, dragging his free hand through his hair. “Why me? I clearly have **no idea** what I'm doing-” he adds, Laura cuts him off.

     “Stiles, a pack is only as strong as. it's emissary. If they could get rid of you the rest of the pack wouldn't be a problem,” she tells him.

     “You should listen to her Stiles, she knows what she's talking about,” Allison says, grabbing a backpack off the floor. “Now ask yourself, who would want to get rid of your pack?” she questions.

     Stiles just stops himself from yelling 'Kate', because he's missing something, he knows he is. This is Allison he's talking to, her family may be crazy but he has nothing to prove that she is.

     “You know who it is you're just not letting yourself see it,” she says, starting towards them, the backpack over her shoulder. “Hurry up Stiles, he's closer than you think,” she warns, squeezing his arm on the way out.

     It only takes him a few more seconds to put together, and really, he should have known all along, it's practically been staring him in the face. He's back in his Jeep and on his way to the Hale house faster than he really should be, but he doesn't care.

     “He's working with them,” Stiles spits as soon as he's in the house, seething. His eyes catch on where Derek is sitting on the couch, before locking on Peter.

     “What are you talking about Stiles,” Laura asks, right behind him.

     “Don't play dumb Laura, Allison practically said it herself; _“Closer than you realize”._ What do you think that means?” Stiles replies. 

     “That could've meant anything,” Laura says.

     “No, think about it. First Kate, and then he shows up on your doorstep, next thing we know there's an alpha pack and three new betas in town,” the more he thinks about it, the more it makes sense. “He was the only other person with Derek when Kate took him; do you think that's a coincidence? It's been him, the whole time, and I didn't even realize it,” he says before Laura can get a word in. Stiles jumps when Peter starts laughing.

     “He's good. Very smart, your pet human,” he says, standing from the armchair. “I was sure he was going to figure me out and ruin everything. That's why I had Kate take Derek. I knew he wouldn't be focused on me if something more important came up,” he adds. Everyone in the room is silent. “What? Are you honestly surprised. After you **threw** me out in the streets, **forced** me into hiding as an **omega** ; you're surprised that I came back to insure your downfall,” Peter yells, a growl creeping into his voice, his eyes flashing red.

     Stiles feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and he tightens his grip on the bat, finds himself wishing he'd brought the gun.

     “ **You** did this?” Talia growls.

     “Of course I did, didn't you hear your precious human Tali? It's been me the whole time,” Peter yells back.

     Stiles doesn't see him move, but all of a sudden Derek has Peter by the neck pressed against the wall on the opposite side of the room.

     Peter laughs again; “It was the kidnapping right?”. Derek tightens his hand and growls, blue lighting his eyes. “I thought so,” Peter rasps. “That wasn't the original plan you know. Kate was supposed to come into town, introduce herself, win you over with some harmless flirting. But you and that _emissary_. You made things unnecessarily difficult,” Peter says. Derek remains quiet.

     “What did you hope to gain from this?” Talia asks.

     “Power of course,” Peter states, rolling his eyes. “Killing you, gaining your power, your **pack** I would have been unstoppable,” he adds. At this point Derek's claws are digging into the skin of Peter's throat, blood seeping down over the nails. “Are you going to kill me Derek?” Peter asks. Derek's glare falters. “I didn't think so; you never were strong enough,” he taunts. His gaze falls briefly on Stiles before moving back to Derek. “I'll kill him you know. It was part of the plan all along; the emissary was never going to survive,” he says, his voice low. This time when Derek's hand tightens Peter actually looks worried, bringing his hands up to pull at the hand around his throat.

     “Derek stop, you're going to kill him,” Laura tries, stepping up next to him and laying a hand on his arm.

     “What are we going to do with him if I don't kill him? Let him go?” Derek asks, nobody answers. He shrugs Laura off with a snarl; “If we let him go he'll just come back stronger, we might not be able to stop him next time”.

     “He's right,” Stiles says, without meaning to. And yeah, honestly, he'd really like to see the guy dead. After everything that's happened, seeing Derek snap this guys neck would help him rest easier at night. But, crazy as he is, this guy is Derek's **family** ; there's no way Derek could walk out of that unscathed. “I'm not saying you have to kill him, but you can't just let him leave, not after all he's done,” he adds.

     “What's the matter? Still peeved about what I did to your little friend?” Peter taunts. Stiles' hand tightens around the handle of the bat and Peter laughs. “Some hunter you are, you couldn't even protect your best friend,” he says.

     Derek shoves him back into the wall. “ **You** don't get to talk to him,” he growls.

     Peter smiles, all teeth, far too cocky for someone who's life is literally in someone else's hands. “How precious. You actually think you could stop me?” his gaze settles back on Stiles, smiling wider at the way he shifts the bat at his side. “Where was all that confidence when I was ripping into that pretty little red head? She sure could've used your protection”.

     Stiles' blood goes cold, panic coiling tight around his rib cage. “Lydia,” he murmurs, unsure how he managed even that. The bat falls from his hand and he sucks in a breath, something buzzing unpleasantly under his skin. He can't breathe, and he can hear Peter laughing at him as he places a hand to his own chest, unsure of what else to do. The laugh cuts off into a wet, unpleasant, gurgle, and Stiles looks up.

     It happens between one blink and the next. One second Derek is standing, teeth bared, with his hand around Peters throat, and the next Peter is on the floor, blood pooling from his neck, and there's red creeping around Derek's irises.

     Nobody speaks. Laura is clenching her outstretched hand, like she thinks maybe she could have done something; Cora is tucked into William's side, eyes wide and shoulder's shaking; Talia is looking at Derek, red blooming around her irises; and Derek is frozen in place, looking between the blood on his hand, and Peter's lifeless form on the floor at his feet.

     Stiles' breath rattles out of him as he releases the breath he'd been holding. “Holy shit, what did you just do?” he asks, breaking the silence that had fallen between them. Derek's chest is heaving, the red in his eyes bright, and Stiles can see his hands shaking from where he's standing across the room.

     Everyone is still quiet, _painfully_ so, and Stiles can feel it buzzing in his ears. He crosses the room slowly, so slow he doesn't know he's moving til he's there, next to Derek with his hand on Derek's arm. “Derek,” he says, voice low, hand tightening around Derek's bicep.

     Derek turns to look at him, red still glowing in his irises. The Triskelion burns under Stiles' skin, and he doesn't bother to put any thought into what that could mean, just pulls Derek in by the hand on his bicep, just until they're occupying the same space. Derek lets him, moving on autopilot until he's standing where Stiles wants him.

     “What happened to his eyes?” Stiles asks, eyes moving from Derek's face to Talia's. Her irises are still rimmed red, like she can't control it as well as usual.

     She's quiet for a while, almost like she's trying to decide whether or not Stiles needs to know the answer. He considers yelling, but she speaks up before he can start. “Peter was an alpha. When Derek-” she stops, eyes shifting to Derek.

     Stiles sees Derek clench his fists out of the corner of his eye, his jaw tight. Stiles moves his hand down till it's circled around Derek's wrist, rubbing idly at the pulse point until he feels Derek relax slightly, his hands opening to fall loose of there fists.

     Talia watches them quietly, notices the visible ease in Derek's shoulder's at Stiles' touch. The remaining red glow disappears from her eyes. “He absorbed Peter's power, and obtained his status,” she says quietly.

     Stiles isn't sure what that is suppose to mean, but he feels Derek's pulse jump under his thumb, so he figures it can't be good. He sees Talia glance down at where he's touching Derek still, but he doesn't drop his hand. He's not sure why, but this little bit of contact helps settle the buzz under his skin, and Derek doesn't seem bothered by it, so he'll take what he can get. “I realize I've been hanging around you guys for a while now, but you're going to have to elaborate on that, because I have no idea what it means,” he replies, when it looks like Talia isn't going to say anything else.

     “It means he's an alpha Stiles,” Laura says from behind them. Stiles turns to look at her when she speaks and he sees her pull her arms around herself, like she's hugging herself. Laura has always been confident, and for the first time since Stiles' has known her she looks small, and sad, and scared. “Which means he'll need his own pack,” she adds.

     Even Stiles knows that an alpha without a pack will eventually become an omega. He swallows hard, tightens his hand around Derek's wrist. “What about the betas that Peter turned?” he asks, turning to look back at Talia.

     “He turned them, so they don't have an alpha now that he's dead. But they were working with him, are we just supposed to trust them?” she replies, her question coming off as a bit confrontational towards Stiles.

     He shrugs, not letting her tone bother him. “They're good kids. Besides, I don't think they really helped him with anything, I think they were more about power and a convenient distraction than anything else,” he says. “It's Derek's decision in the end anyway right?” he asks. Talia nods curtly and Stiles turns his attention back on Derek.

     He's a wreck. His head tilted down, his eyes wide and unfocused, his mouth set in a grim line.

     “Hey. You alright?” Stiles asks, his voice low, so he's talking only to Derek. When he doesn't answer Stiles brings his free hand up to his neck; the intimacy of the gesture isn't lost on him, but he doesn't let himself focus on that. Instead he focuses on the way Derek's breaths drag out of him, like he's fighting for air. Stiles pulls and Derek practically collapses into him, his head moving to the space between Stiles' neck and shoulder, Derek's free hand coming up to clutch at the back of his shirt.

     Stiles isn't sure how long they stand like that, all he knows is that Derek's breathing has evened out and he looks a little more sure of himself when he pulls back and says he'd like to meet the betas. Stiles still doesn't drop his hold on Derek's wrist. Not until Peter's body is moved, the blood cleaned, and his dad has come and gone. Even then he's reluctant to break their contact.

     “It's okay Stiles,” Derek says, seeing his hesitation. “I'll be fine, you can go home,” he adds, when Stiles still doesn't move to pull away.

     “Are you sure?” Stiles asks, hand tightening briefly. His pulse jumps when Derek moves the hand he's still holding until he's got a hold of Stiles the same way.

     Stiles meets Derek's eyes when he doesn't do anything else, and that seems to be what Derek was waiting for, because he starts talking. “Are you okay?” he asks.

     Stiles swallows hard. He hadn't been letting himself think about that. He shakes his head no and looks down at their hands. Derek starts rubbing his thumb over the inside of Stiles' wrist, like Stiles himself had done earlier. “It's just, a lot, happening at once. I'll be okay,” he says.

     “Then you should go home. Sleep it off; we can talk to the betas in the morning,” Derek replies. Honestly, Stiles would really rather not leave right now. But he will, because he needs sleep, even if it means walking away from whatever the hell this happens to be between them right now.

     “Just, call me, if you need anything. Okay? The amount of times you've busted through my window is a bit concerning,” he teases. Derek laughs, actually laughs, and okay, this is good. Derek laughing is good, it means he's better than he was earlier, Stiles can leave now.

     He drops their contact unwillingly and takes a step back, cold almost immediately, he grabs his bat and is taking his keys out of his pocket when Derek speaks up.

     “Thank you Stiles,” he says. Stiles isn't sure how he'd managed to pour every bit of sincerity he has into those three words, but he did, and Stiles is smiling before he can convince himself not to.

     “No problem sourwolf,” he replies. Still smiling as he leaves, he hears Derek's laugh from the front porch and can't stop smiling the whole way home. When he gets there he collapses onto his bed fully clothed and falls asleep thinking about Derek's smile, and his laugh, and the warmth of Derek's hand around his wrist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, the end of this chapter is the first thing I actually wrote for part two :/ oops


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two Months Later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, the last chapter of part 2. It has been a lot, but overall, I really like the way this part turned out. Hope you enjoy :)

     “I told you Stiles, there wasn't a look,” Lydia says, her feigned aggravation completely ruined by the smirk on her face.

     Stiles huffs and shifts in his chair, leaning farther across the table. “Okay, except, I was there, I saw the look. There was definitely a look,” he insists. Lydia rolls her eyes at him.

     “He's right, there was a look,” Erica comments, a wicked smile on her face when Stiles chokes on his drink.

     Scott rolls his eyes and huffs an exaggerated sigh. “Just let it go Stiles. You and I both know you're never going to win this,” he says, from his seat next to Stiles.

     Stiles turns in his seat to look at Scott, throwing one arm over the back of the chair so he can turn fully. “Never. There was a look, she admits there was a look,” he replies, gesturing towards Erica. Across the table Isaac is laughing at him. “Yeah, yuk it up chuckles, I saw the look you gave Scott too,” he says, smirking when Isaac stops laughing to glare at him.

     “Stop harassing my betas,” Derek says, entering the room. He walks over to take a seat on the back of the couch behind Stiles, and Stiles turns to look at him, his eyebrows raised.

     “Hey, I'm a key part of this pack, so, technically, they're my betas too. I can harass them all I want,” he says, sticking his tongue out. Derek rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his face.

     “Do you want to talk about that?” Lydia asks, arching an eyebrow, a teasing lilt to her voice. Stiles kicks her chair, not nearly as subtle as he'd meant to, and glares.

     “The constant flirting is nauseating,” Isaac comments, managing to sound bored despite the smirk on his face.

     “Bite me Lahey,” Stiles says, kicking him in the shin under the table.

     Isaac looks up from where he'd been examining his nails, smirk still in place. “I don't know, Derek might get upset,” he says, unfazed by the kick.

     Derek's eyes flash red briefly and Stiles drops his head to hang over the back of the chair with a groan. “Please don't encourage them,” he says.

     Lydia smiles and pats his arm. “I think it's cute when he gets all protective,” she coos.

     Stiles sits back up right to glare at her. “Why are you here?” he asks.

     “You invited me,” she laughs.

     “Well, I changed my mind, invitation revoked,” he says. She pouts but he keeps glaring at her until she stops and rolls her eyes at him.

     “Oh relax Stiles, you know I'm only teasing,” she says, wrapping a strand of hair around her finger in apparent disinterest.

     Stiles huffs and slides lower in his chair, not quite pouting, thank you very much.

     It's not that he minds the teasing, he doesn't, he's gotten used to it. But they'd just gotten the hang of this whole emissary thing, finally settling each others heartbeats in the back of their minds, not loud enough to be overwhelming, but just loud enough that they'll know if something happens. So, the teasing was fine, the very real feelings that Stiles was dutifully smothering into submission, those were not fine.

     He seemed to be doing alright at keeping a lid on it though, if none of the werewolves he was constantly surrounded by knew. Lydia though, she may be the end of him, because he's pretty sure she knows and is just waiting for him to wear down enough to admit it himself.

     Stiles feels the weight of Derek's hand as it drops onto his shoulder, feels the brush of fingertips over the triskelion on his collarbone. He was getting used to that too, their solidifying bond was making it necessary, and the near constant contact was nice, if not slightly nerve wracking.

     Erica clears her throat, snapping Stiles back into focus. “You gave Scott a look?” she asks, the teasing clear in her tone, and the way she's looking at Isaac.

     Stiles shakes himself, glad for the subject change, and smirks. “Oh yeah, there was definitely a look there. Scott, buddy, back me up here,” he says, jostling Scott with his shoulder. Scott looks up from the table to glare at him and Isaac huffs, kicking at Stiles' chair.

     Stiles opens his mouth to say something, but then Scott meets Isaac's eyes, briefly, before they both turn red and stare back down at the table. Lydia gives Isaac's arm a comforting pat and he pushes back from the table and storms off, his footsteps stomping up the stairs and the slamming of his bedroom door echoing through the loft.

     “Well now look what you did,” Erica says, giving Stiles a scolding look.

     “What I did? You started it,” he says, flailing an arm out in her direction, just missing Scott. Derek huffs a laugh, Boyd tsk's quietly, and Erica sticks her tongue out at him.

     “I think you should go talk to him,” Lydia says. Stiles turns to her, argument on his tongue, only to see her expectant look fixed on Scott. Scott, however, is still glaring down at the table like it has personally offended him.

     Stiles clears his throat and slings an arm over Scott's shoulders, shaking him slightly. “Yeah. Come on dude, the guy's pining, just let him down easy,” he says, noticing a flicker of something on Scott's face and changing tactics, “or maybe don't let him down at all. Whichever, I don't judge,” he says. Scott scoffs, rolling his eyes, but Stiles can see the smile he's trying to hide.

     Lydia clears her throat, an impatient eyebrow ticking up as she taps one perfectly manicured nail against the table top.

     “Dude, you better go talk to him, because something tells me the pep talk I just gave you has nothing on the lecture she has in store,” Stiles says. Scott hesitates, eyeing Lydia, like he's not sure she's going to say anything.

     She takes a deep breath and opens her mouth and Scott stands from the table, practically running to the stairs. Lydia smiles, clearly happy to have won.

     “You are evil,” Stiles says, pointing at her.

     “Me?” she questions, voice saccharin sweet, eyebrows raised.

     “Yes, you. E-V-I-L,” he replies. “Play innocent all you want woman, but if I had to choose who I'd rather be stuck in a dark alley with, you, or a rouge werewolf, I'd choose the werewolf any day,” he adds.

     She smiles, like she approves of his choice. “Thank you. I'm choosing to take that as a compliment,” she says.

     He shrugs; “I meant it as one”.

     She's still smiling when she drops her eyes to where Derek's fingers are on Stiles' collarbone, giving them a pointed look before miming zipping her lips and standing from the table to walk into the kitchen.

     Stiles knows what her look meant, he can feel where Derek's fingers have slipped under the neck of his shirt to trace over the triskelion, something he only does when he's trying to focus on something out of human hearing.

     Stiles wraps a hand around Derek's wrist and Derek hums to let Stiles know he's listening. “Don't focus too hard Der, you might hear something you don't want to hear,” he says, literally shuddering at the thought.

     Derek laughs at him. “They're just talking Stiles,” he says, a soft smile on his face.

     “God Stilinski, get your mind out of the gutter,” Erica teases. Stiles sticks his tongue out at her.

     “Bite me Reyes, you can't tell me you're listening for the conversation,” he says, She sticks her tongue out him and shifts back on Boyd's lap. Stiles can't help but notice that he looks suspiciously focused. “Boyd, you too? Come on guys, can't anyone get a little privacy around here?” he scolds.

     None of them answer, all too focused on the drama upstairs.

     They all rush to cover their ears when music starts blaring from the kitchen. “Let's give them a little privacy, shall we?” Lydia questions from the kitchen doorway, speaking up to be heard over the music.

     Stiles smiles at her. _“Evil,”_ he mouths, she nods a thank you with a smile on her face.

     Stiles doesn't know how much time passes before Scott comes back downstairs, his face suspiciously red as he makes a half-assed excuse and darts towards the door. Lydia stands and turns down the music, there is a chorus of relieved sighs.

     “Well, it's been fun, but I should be going,” she says. Stiles huffs a laugh when she leans down to kiss his cheek, but he keeps his mouth shut, simply waving goodbye when she lets herself out.

     He sticks around a while, lets himself get dragged into, what has to be, the hundredth re-watch of Pretty In Pink, making himself comfortable when Erica drapes her legs over his lap.

     It's just past 11:30 at night when he finally decides he should really head home. He gets up carefully, re-situating Erica's legs and laying a blanket over her before heading to where he can hear Derek in the kitchen. “I'm gonna head out,” he says from the doorway, keeping his voice low.

     Derek looks up from the plate he's drying to smile at him. “I think I remember you saying that a few hours ago,” he says, teasing.

     “Oh, ha ha. You have no room to talk mister “sat through two movies before getting up even though I said I wasn't gonna watch the first one”,” Stiles replies.

     Derek laughs. “You got me there,” he says, putting the plate away and turning to lean back against the counter, that soft smile back on his face.

     Stiles takes a second to look at him; the sleeves of his Henley pushed to his elbows, the wet patch from where he was leaning against the counter, his sweatpants and bare feet; all of it speaking volumes to how comfortable he's gotten here.

     Stiles bites his tongue to stop himself from doing something phenomenally stupid, like suggesting he stay. “Alright, I'll see you tomorrow,” he says, starting to back out of the kitchen.

     “Let me know when you get home,” Derek says, Stiles hums in agreement. “Night Stiles,” he calls, as Stiles is opening the front door.

     “Night,” he calls back, pulling the front door shut and heading down to the parking lot.

     Stiles climbs in his jeep, cursing when it sputters once, twice, before starting. He looks down when his phone pings with a new text. “ ** _Mockingbird:_** _He's headed your way_ ”. He sighs and drags a hand through his hair. “Fucking perfect,” he mutters, his eyes moving to Derek's window before he puts the jeep in gear and pulls out of the parking lot. They couldn't catch a break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O-kay. Part two, done. What a ride. Part three is in the works, and it's going to be, a lot...I don't have a for sure time line, cuz I'm not good at that sort of thing, but it'll be here eventually. It might not be done in a timely fashion, but it will be done. I promise. Thank you again to everyone who read/commented/left kudos, it means so much. If you wanna talk, or just see the blog behind the writer, you can find me here: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/closertoalright

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry this took so long :/ I really have no excuse. This part only cooperated occasionally, it was annoying, but, it happens. Anyway, thanks to everyone who reads this, I really appreciate it :D. I'm actually pretty happy with the way this one turned out... Updates every other day. Enjoy!!


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